


The Difference

by Shianhygge



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Character Development, Empathy, Explicit Language, Exploring what it means to be a monster, Exploring what it means to be human, Mentions of sexual violence, Multi, Racism, Undecided Relationship(s), compassion - Freeform, mentions of rape/non-con
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-18
Updated: 2017-09-08
Packaged: 2018-12-03 23:41:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 24,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11542854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shianhygge/pseuds/Shianhygge
Summary: While fleeing from the world of the Aen Elle, Ciri jumped to many worlds. One world, however, was our own during the 1330s, the time of the Black Death. If Ciri was able to jump through our two worlds, then a bridge must be available between their world, and ours. And like Avallac'h explained, doors between worlds do open, if rarely.Jazz Amarante is a college senior in her early twenties. She likes her life as it is, she likes that she'll graduate within the year, likes that her life is relatively stable. If offered another chance at life, a chance to start over, she wouldn't take it.But portals open here and there, and portals are said to be volatile. Jazz isn't drunk enough, but she ended up on the Continent anyway. Though all she wants is to return home.No sane human would want to live in a world like that of the Witcher.





	1. I'm Too Sober

"What's the point of having an eidetic memory if you don't use it for practical reasons?" it was the umpteenth time that Jazz's 'friend' harassed her for not knowing the class materials as well as she did. "You could literally memorize the entire textbook and class notes if you wanted to," her friend cocked a brow and placed her hands on her hips with some attitude. "I keep telling you to study, and here you are, playing this stupid game again."

Jazz, sat on her dorm bed, PS4 controller in hand and just stared at her friend, who stood directly in front of the tiny girl's view of the flatscreen behind. Truth be told, she was used to people nagging her for wasting her gift, but truth be told, her gift wasn't that great to begin with. "And I keep telling you that I have selective eidetic memory. I can't memorize material on command." that was the reality of Jazz's gift. She had no control over what she memorized. "And memorizing for the sake of passing an exam isn't the same thing as learning. Now would you kindly move?" Jazz made a gesture towards the door, "I need to kill a bruxa."

Her friend rolled her eyes before stomping out of the room, "Fine! But don't whine when you fail your class!"

Once the door slammed shut in the apartment, Jazz heaved a heavy sigh, throwing down the controller onto the blankets to her side and ran shaking hands down her face. "So easy for them to say that I should do something." No two individuals were the same, and to compare the lives of two people from two entirely different backgrounds was unfair to both parties. Most people didn't seem to understand this, but if they were going to be bull-headed, Jazz didn't feel the need to keep such people around.

You, dear reader, might now expect, that Jazz, feeling down on herself in that brief moment of weakness, will make some wish that she could be transported to the world of the Witcher because boohoo her nobody understands her. Ha, no. Jazz liked where she was in life. Granted it was difficult to find friends that understood and accepted her for all her flaws, but she had loving parents, and loving brothers. So no, Jazz had no wish to leave her current life. She was, in a sense, content.

So when she decided that her body required sustenance, and promptly got off her bed to open the door to the hallway, Jazz didn't expect to see the inside of a barn on the other side of said door. Nor did the university senior expect the edges of the door to be outlined with a glowing and otherworldly liquid blue. For a long moment, Jazz merely stood and stared at the portal, blinking once, twice, three times… then proceeded to closed the door and rub her eyes. "Holy fuck hard core hallucination much?" When she opened the door again, Jazz expected to see her dark apartment hallway… She expected too much.

"I'm not going insane… right?" a very valid question. One asked as the student pinched herself in the thigh. "Not dreaming either. But still… portal." a truly unremarkable observation, made only to herself, yet Jazz found that even saying so aloud was ludicrous. Then, snapping out of the dumbfounded induced trance, Jazz slammed the door shut and proceeded to crawl back in bed. "No. I'm not playing this game of mind tricks. I'm going to sleep, because evidently, that is what I need." She settled into a fetal position, and threw her comfortable down feathered blanket over her head. "No way I'm going through a portal made from my imagination."

A good few minutes passed, and Jazz began to doze off with the sound of the Witcher playing in the background.

BANG

Jazz's brown eyes popped open with a start, and she bolted upright in bed, heart jolting in her chest. Wordlessly, the small woman stared at the door, which had slammed open to reveal the strange portal. And for a few moments, nothing happened, just silence, staring, and "I Cannot Let You Leave" playing in the background.

Then, a jolt as the entire room shook, and a sudden force pulled the bed towards the door, prompting Jazz to hang onto the bed for her life. It came no surprise, however, when the full sized bed slid and jammed itself into the door. What came as a surprise was that a vortex seemed to suck everything in the room into the portal with a strong gust of wind.

Bracing herself, Jazz gapped, now completely awake, as her belongings flew past her and into the portal. "I'M NOT DRUNK ENOUGH FOR THIS SHIT!" Jazz bellowed and whined as she watched various articles of clothing fly past her head along with her expensive college textbooks and various novels. She waited, hoping that the vortex would cease its destruction of her room, but when it didn't, Jazz screamed in frustration, "FINE!"

Acting on impulse and pure frustration, Jazz turned her head, eyeing the various pieces of clothing before reaching out and snatching hold of her black wool coat. Once she put the heavy coat on, Jazz cursed at her stupidity, and let go of her bed, letting the vortex carry her into the portal.

The trans-dimensional opening pulled at her head, not really churning her gut, but made Jazz feel heavy headed and nauseous, whilst miraculously being cold and numbing. And when she landed in the empty barn, the portal closing behind her, the first thing Jazz did was keel over with a sick groan and emptied her stomach on the floor.

"I hate portals."

 

* * *

 

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	2. No Room For Good Morals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jazz finds out where the portal led... and what world... to put it lightly, she's not happy...

Jazz understood now, why her favorite character hated portals so. The feeling of being pulled but at the same time not, was similar to that of being in a car. Unnatural, unmoving yet moving at the same time. Already quite sensitive to car sickness, Jazz found that using a portal took the nauseating feeling and increased it tenfold with the addition of the cold and numbing darkness. Which is why Jazz spent a few minutes puking and another few minutes dry heaving into the hay covered floor before the sickening feeling subsided.

 

“I’m in a barn…” Jazz muttered to herself, scrambling away from the pool of vomit on the floor. Knowing herself, she’d end up accidentally rolling into it if she didn’t put some distance between her and it. “Portals are real… and I’m magically in a barn…” But dear reader, you must be wondering, why isn’t Jazz panicking? Oh… she is… on the inside… deep, deep, down and locked behind a door pounded the unmistakable monster known as anxiety, and it threatened to beat it’s cage down.

 

Taking deep and slow breaths, Jazz sat up and buried her head into her knees, closing her eyes in order to keep calm. “Think, Jazz. If you panic, it’s all over. It’ll be like Dorney Park all over again if you don’t get your head together.” The incident at Dorney Park was an event where Jazz got lost in the amusement park and promptly broke down in tears when she realized that she was lost. She had been 14 years old at the time, and therefore old enough to ask people for help. Instead, she’d allowed herself to give into the anxiety… that day was not her proudest moment.

 

After calming the flurry of emotions which toiled under her skin, Jazz let out a breath and started laying out the facts. “Ok. You’re 21 years old. You’re a female. You’re dressed only in your swimming trunks, underclothes, and a loose fitting short sleeve T-shirt with Noctis’s shirt design on it. For all intents and purposes, you are practically naked except for your wool coat.” Jazz wiggled her toes and scrunched her face up, “You don’t even have shoes, Jazz. Great start. At least you forgot to take your glasses off before going to bed or you’d be blind right now.” the small woman shook her head and stood up, pacing a good eight feet away from the pool of vomit. “I got pulled into a weird portal thing… and now I’m in a barn. It’s shelter, that’s for sure, but you don’t know if someone owns the barn.” Jazz swept her gaze over the interior of her destination. There were messy stacks of hay, but no animals and no tools. “Could hide if someone comes here… I know I’m in a barn, but where is the barn?”

 

Brown eyes narrowed as they fell on the splintered wooden door. It was firmly shut, but there wasn’t a latch to secure the door should an invader enter the barn. And from the looks of the wood and hinges, both weathered, decaying and rusted, Jazz doubted the integrity of the barn in general. As a starting shelter, the barn was decent, but Jazz didn’t want to risk the entire structure collapsing on top of her. Which meant that despite not really wanting to know the answer to her question, Jazz was forced to try and find out where she was. But did she really want to touch the rusted door? Did she really want to leave the barn and risk heading somewhere without shelter?

 

Chancing it, Jazz slowly made her way to the door of the barn and cracked it open with a shove of her shoulder, barely getting the door open with how small she was. Outside the barn, to Jazz’s immense disappointment… was a field of tall grass… excluding the road that bisected the field off in the distance, there were only trees in the distance and grass all around…

 

At any other point in her life, Jazz might have been happy to be surrounded by such a large amount of untouched nature. But being in an open plain of grass meant that there wouldn’t be people for a long while. “Not too keen on walking out there without shoes on…” Jazz mumbled to herself as she slowly made her way out of the barn. The sun was rather high in the sky, a good sign despite the situation, that Jazz would have time to explore the area surrounding her little barn before night came and made exploration treacherous.

 

With a tired sigh, Jazz took one step forward, then two, testing out the feel of dirt underneath her bare feet. She scrunched her face at the strange feeling, her almond shaped eyes growing smaller as her face wrinkled in discomfort. Jazz tried to tell herself to relax, that walking barefoot in dirt wasn’t the worst thing in the world, that she’s walked barefoot in grass before. Yet, she couldn’t find a way to make the disgust go away, the feeling only subsiding as she slowly treaded into the tall grass, her unremarkable brown eyes remaining vigilant for any creature that might bite at her exposed legs.

 

Despite her immense discomfort, Jazz eventually made her way through the field of grass, narrowly dodging the occasional pile of mushy brown poop. It didn’t take long to cross the field, and the sun was still rather high in the sky when Jazz made it to the dirt road, yet as she shifted her gaze from left to right, Jazz found nothing by barren road stretched as far as her eyes could see. “South Dakota?” Jazz took a wild guess at her location before looking up at the sky and walking along the road towards the southwest. “I’m in the middle of nowhere… fucking great.” the small woman cursed, mostly keeping silent as she trudged down the dirt road, careful to tread near the grass. As much as she wanted to get out of such a situation… Jazz was weary of strangers. If a man were to come across her in the middle of nowhere, Jazz couldn’t guarantee her own safety given that she was scantily clad with no weapons. If she heard anyone or anything approaching, she was small enough to hide in the wild brush.

 

 _Need to get some shoes._ Jazz thought to herself, head bowed as she walked on, let her feet carry her down the stretch of road. _Don’t know where I am, but I know that I can’t keep going on like this._ The abandoned barn had seemed like it was on its last legs, about to collapse at any moment, but it had been a shelter for Jazz. But still, it was better to risk moving on than to stay in one place without food or water.

 

It wasn’t until a few hours of walking later, that Jazz started to see some proof of civilization. Jazz halted in her steps abruptly and stared at the scene ahead of her. And suddenly, she wished that she had stayed in her run down barn.

 

The road Jazz had started on had long since evolved into light forest, tall trees surrounding her, but before her eyes was a patch of blood stained dirt. It was a large stain, one that should have accompanied a body, whether it be animal or human, and yet, there was none. And then, in the distance, Jazz heard the clatter of metal on metal. The young woman didn’t give a second thought in diving behind a bush and crouching. Jazz waited, silent and counting, one minute passed, then five before a peculiar sight marched past Jazz’s bush.

 

Men in medieval armor, black color plated and outlined in gold, rode past on horses, the clanging of their armor like a tolling bell, loud and annoying. At first Jazz simply thought that she’d walked into a mock medieval festival, like most European countries liked to celebrate. And then she realized, eyeing the hardened faces and weaponry that decorated the soldiers, that maybe it would be best if she stayed in her shrubbery after all. There had been a pool of blood, and how was she to know that these men weren’t responsible.

 

Then, Jazz saw the banner the men rode with. A black flag… decorated with the face of a yellowish gold sun.

 

_I didn’t run into a bunch of cosplayers, did I?_

 

She shook her head as the soldiers rode past, far enough to not see or hear her as she stood from her crouch in the bushes. “Get a hold of yourself, Jazz. You’re just imagining things.” the college senior narrowed her eyes in thought, black hair blown messily in the breeze as her gaze found the blood splatter again. “But still…”

 

It was a terrible idea, but Jazz couldn’t help her curiosity, slipping out of the overgrown green and slowly stalking after the envoy of heavily armed men. _If I follow behind, then they’ll eventually lead me to some food or water or…_

 

For the second time that day, Jazz halted in her tracks, not caring that the soldiers were still marching onward. As she rounded the corner of the trees, which gave away to a small field, Jazz wanted to turn and run.

 

 _Blood._ She thought, staring at the scene in horror. _So much blood and are those?_ Jazz went pale for a moment before moving closer, morbidly curious. _Corpses… what the hell did I walk in on?_ Still barefooted, Jazz crept closer to the carnage, ignoring the flapping hole filled fabric as it waved in the breeze. It was a battlefield… or what remained of a battle. Dead bodies of soldiers dressed in all sorts of colors and armor.

 

Jazz crouched next to the closest body, which happened to be located behind a spiked wooden barricade. Blood decorated and stained the area around the man, body bent at an awkward angle, and a sword buried in the ground next to him. There was a stab wound in the middle of the man’s abdomen and he didn’t seem to be breathing. The student’s breathing became slightly labored as the situation was too real.

 

Looking around, Jazz found that there were dozens of wooden chests and over fifty bodies which littered the field. And with a gulp, she stood and made her way over to a chest and opened it, pulling out a bag made out of some sort of animal skin. Shaking it with a curious expression, Jazz’s face lit up when she heard some sort of liquid swish in the skin. Uncorking the nozzle, the small woman gave a hesitant sniff before taking a sip. When the liquid touched her tongue, Jazz hummed in appreciation before drinking the liquid with gusto, happy for the water.

 

After drinking half the skin, Jazz resumed her looting, morally compromised from taking from the dead, but justifying the means. _Dead men have no need for water._ Her calculating gaze locked onto a nearby soldier’s boots, which looked to be her size. _Or clothes…_

 

They were leather boots, protective, but not very comfortable. They reached just below her knees, but Jazz didn’t care, glad to have protection for her delicate feet. Resuming her search, Jazz took any waterskin she saw… and anything shiny, coming away with a pouch full of gold coins from each body. And it was during her looting that Jazz finally stopped to inspect the banners littering the battlefield…

 

The two distinctive banners that Jazz found were similar in that they shared a black background, but she would recognize the coat of arms anywhere. The yellows sun on one, and three silver fleurs-de-lys on the other.

 

“Nilfgaard and Temeria…” Jazz gaped and stood back, her head spinning. “What the hell is going on?”

 

In her confusion, Jazz didn’t notice the pale slouched and disfigured creatures lurking behind her until one stepped on a metal shield, alerting the girl from her thoughts.

 

Spinning around, Jazz blanched at the abominations heading her way, well, more like sprinting her way. With only time to yelp out a stained, “Nope!” Jazz quickly ran in the opposite direction, snatching up a steel sword in the process, though she had to drop her waterskins in order to drag the sword with her as she ran. In her mind, Jazz’s selective memory repeated something she’d read only once before.

 

“-they resemble humans… they are the utter negation of all that is human… though they have arms and legs like men, they walk on all furs like dogs or badgers… they are driven by one thing and one thing only: an insatiable craving for human flesh….”

 

Deciding that the sword was weighing her down, Jazz dropped the weapon and bolted up the hill and down the road, making sure the pouch of coins in her pocket was secure in her coat as she ran in a dead sprint, long black hair trailing after her. She didn’t look back, only continuing to pump her legs, glad that her father pushed her to run every morning. Jazz didn’t want to believe it, because it was absolutely impossible, but she had seen a ghoul. She had walked into the aftermath of a battle between Nilfgaard and Temeria, and she was running from ghouls. At the fork in the road, Jazz didn’t think before taking the right path, sprinting down the hill at an ungodly speed and crossing the stone bridge. And before long, as the sun began to disappear from the sky, Jazz, found herself standing at the edge of a village, overlooking the water. Catching her breath, Jazz only managed to curse as the cries of bandits sounded behind her and continued on her sprint, letting her feet carry her to the right, going over yet another bridge, but away from the clanking of weapons. At yet another fork in the road, Jazz ran to the right, cutting through the forest as the wolves howled around her.

 

 _I know where I’m going, I know where I’m going, I know where I’m going…_ Jazz chanted in her head, pushing her body to the limits as she ran through the forest and past a sign in a language she couldn’t read.

 

After passing an abandoned wooden cart in the middle of a sandy and watery area, Jazz couldn’t deny anything she’d experienced any more. _I need to get to White Orchard._

 

Water splashed as she ran across the shallow waters, but when she saw the white trees ahead, Jazz slowed to a jog and heaved a sigh of relief, she’d made it.

 

* * *

 

Thank you for reading! As always, kudos and feedback is welcomed!


	3. An Eye For An Eye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It doesn't matter where you go, Jazz, there will be discrimination... racism, gender inequality, stereotyping... and when you've lived unaccustomed to that way of life, how do you deal with it when it's directed at you?

At approximately 9pm the citizens of White Orchard were treated to the strange sight of a young woman stumbling into the village, looking unlike anyone from the Northern Realm. The woman, short by normal standards, barely tall enough to ride a horse, wore strange clothing with some of her thighs indecently exposed. The village men had hollered and catcalled the young lady, earning them fierce glares from tired brown eyes hidden behind long straight raven locks, and vulgar retorts, in only what they could describe as a heavy Rivian accent.

 

They’d called her a Rivian, much to Jazz’s amusement, when she had a view choice words to being spoken to like she was some common whore. An American accent, evidently, was the equivalent of a Rivian accent. Not that she was complaining, it was best that she didn’t sound like someone from the Northern Realms, better yet that word be spread that she was of the same make as the White Wolf. Though as she stumbled into the inn at White Orchard, Jazz seemed to take back that thought. Rivians were notorious on the Continent for being a people of thieves, marauders, and bandits. One did not want to be looked upon in distrust while in the Northern Realms, it was suicide if you didn’t have a way to defend yourself.

 

Still, the night was long, and Jazz was starving. It wouldn’t hurt to rest in White Orchard for a little while as she planned. Despite the staring, Jazz made her way through the small village and into the inn, sitting at the empty table near the back and waiting for the innkeeper to come serve her. As she sat waiting, Jazz fell into deep thought. She couldn’t stay on the Continent, it was too dangerous a life to live.

 

_ Who can I trust? _ Jazz sat in thought, pointedly ignoring the glower directed at her from the table of villagers behind her.  _ Not many people. Geralt, Ciri, and Vesemir can be trusted without a doubt. But it’s a matter of if I can get to either of them. And judging from the state of decay on that battlefield, I’d say that that battle was fairly recent, but didn’t happen a few days ago. _

 

Straightening up, Jazz waved the innkeeper over, taking careful note that the woman’s face was battered around the mouth and nose area. “Excuse me, ma’am? How much is it to rent a room?”

 

The woman, Elsa, immediately crossed her arms and shook her head. “Got food and drink, but no rooms for you.”

 

Startled, Jazz swept her gaze around the inn. All around her were men, women, and children eyeing her like she was an unwelcomed guest. A freak. A monster.  _ Ah. I see. So this is how they wanted to play. Should aim to be diplomatic. Avoid a confrontation. _ Calmly, with an unimpressed expression, Jazz raised her hands in a surrendering gesture. “Alrighty then. I won’t argue. In that case, I’d like to pay for some food and water.” As she said that, Jazz dug into the pocket of her coat and pulled out a pouch of crowns, dropping it with a clink onto the wooden tavern table.

 

“80 crowns.” Elsa stated, head upturned, confidant with how the people in the inn backed her up.

 

_ 80 crowns?! The bitch is charging more than she would normally!  _ Jazz’s eyes narrowed at her displeasure. To be treated like this because of the way she spoke… absolutely ridiculous. “Is this how you treat all your guests?”

 

“Only Rivians and mutant freaks.” Jazz heard the cook spit out, slamming a butcher knife onto the table threateningly.

 

Standing up, Jazz snatched her coin purse off the table and shoved it back into her coat. If she could cast spells or wield a sword, she would have broken a good arrangement of things within the inn, not excluding bones. But, as she had no way of fighting back, Jazz merely walked slowly towards the door, making sure to keep her front facing the inn’s inhabitants before she kicked the door open behind her and left, fast walking down the road until she was out of the inn’s sight and hidden by shadow.

 

Safely hidden, Jazz gave a frustrated kick at a rock and huffed in anger, pacing in a small line. “Goddamn it!”

 

She’d never been treated in such a poor manner, and it frustrated Jazz. To think that this was how Witchers were treated, and to experience it herself. Geralt would have moved on, left the town without caring. But Jazz didn’t have the benefit of nearly 60 years of being discriminated against, of being a seasoned warrior. She was only 21 years of age and had been comfortable for her entire young life. So, she did what her feelings told her to do… she lashed out. If they were going to treat her like a monster, then she would act like a monster. What she did then, Jazz wasn’t proud of it, nor was she ashamed of it. 

 

Under the cover of night, Jazz snuck into the stables outside the inn. When none of the horses made a sound, Jazz tentatively reached out and stroked a snout before searching through the saddlebags, finding an adequate supply of food and water for a few days as well as a sword and map. Once satisfied with the supplies, going so far as to take from other saddles, Jazz clambered onto a saddle with a little bit of trouble. Spurring the horse in a poor mimic of what she’d seen Geralt do, Jazz pulled on her coat’s hood and directed her stolen steed out of the stables, waking the sleeping stable hand from his slumber as she sped away from White Orchard.

 

Not wanting to get lost in the dark, Jazz looked towards the sky to navigate her way north, keeping her stolen steed on the main roads leading towards Vizima.

 

“I need a way home.” Jazz mumbled to her steed, who galloped on without much prompting from her. The thing was, Jazz knew that there was a way home to her world. With Ciri being the Lady of Worlds, she’d traveled to Jazz’s world once before… and brought upon the world the Catriona Plague, which Jazz knew as the bubonic plague. Perhaps, when Ciri gains control of her powers, she could bring Jazz back to her time and world. But before that could happen, Jazz realized, she’d have to survive until Eredin was defeated.

 

Using her brain, Jazz could only frown at how long she would have to survive and wait. “From the state of that wench, Elsa, I’d wager that Geralt left White Orchard only a few days ago.” The famished woman led her horse into a gentle trot, though careful to keep vigilant of any threat. “Could probably beat Geralt to the Bloody Baron’s castle, but I don’t think I could last so long on horseback.”

 

“I only have a few options.” Jazz thought aloud, her eyes long since gotten used to the darkness around her. “One, stop in a small town to purchase supplies with the limited crowns that I have and risk the angry villagers from White Orchard finding me. Two, follow the road northeast until I hit Vizima, where I’ll be safe from anyone from White Orchard and where I might have a better chance at purchasing supplies because I have a variety of currency, but I’ll waste a day. Or three, ride on until I hit Crow’s Perch, taking breaks every now and then to rest.”

 

Jazz’s steed snorted before picking up into a gallop, and the young woman smirked, “Yeah, I know, a really easy decision. Not even worth pondering over.” In her lap lay a map, which she unfolded in the moonlight. “Straight to Crow’s Perch it is.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jazz, despite her last name being Amarante, is mostly of Asian ancestry. Despite the fact that being an Asian woman in America, and therefore a 'minority.' The discrimination towards Asians, at least in major cities, has lessened immensely, but if you don't look for it, it's almost as if there isn't any. This is the problem that Jazz has. She didn't go out of her way to look for the discrimination directed at people of her ethnicity group, so she's never been faced with opposition in that way before.
> 
> Ah... A little bit of a note, lol. I'm still getting used to this site's functions. Thank you for reading!


	4. Trouble Will Find You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Good things never last... you have to cherish them to the fullest... Though, actually, nothing good has happened thus far... It's honestly no surprise that everything went from bad to worse.

Four days later

Jazz shivered and sat huddled under a large tree, what kind, she did not know for it was too dark for her to discern any telling traits. She knew that something such as this was bound to happen, though the young lady had hoped for it to happen later rather than sooner. Yet here she was, stranded in the middle of the dense forests separating Vizima and Velen, her stolen steed gone, leaving Jazz with only the items that had fallen when the horse had thrown her off in fright.

In fright of what, though, Jazz was unsure. Animals, after all, had better senses than humans, but whatever it was, Jazz had enough sense to scramble for cover after quickly gathering the fallen bag and sword. Her poor horse, Jazz wagered, would have become prey for some ghastly creature of the night. A tasty snack to be chased and played with until the hunter becomes bored and rips the equine into mincemeat.

 _What a lovely thought_ , Jazz sulked from her position on the forest floor,  _If whatever scared the horse off comes back, I’m in some deep shit._

When Jazz had been thrown from atop the horse, the impact, had thankfully not harmed her as much as it should have, her mind thinking to what had happened to Christopher Reeve in 1995.  _He was young and at the height of health, and he still became a quadriplegic._  It was a morbid thought, but Jazz thanked whatever it was that she’d only gotten cut from several sharp rocks and maybe bruised her arm.  _Still though, I’m bleeding. Lightly, but still bleeding._

The landing had cut up any exposed skin… namely, Jazz’s thighs hands, and even parts of her face. Mere flesh wounds in reality, but for a lone and defenseless woman in the middle of the forests at night, the blood was a beacon to every predator, every creature that preyed on people like her.

Shifting slightly, Jazz rummaged through the single rucksack that fell from the horse, finding several pieces of cloth to bandage the wounds on her palms and wipe away the blood on her cheek. “This is what I get for trying to brave the dark.” Apart from the various clothes used to dress her wounds, there was an apple, a waterskin, and… Jazz’s hand wrapped around something metallic… and sharp. “Ah!” Jazz recoiled, pulling her hand away with a hiss when the pointed object pricked her hand. A frown marred her normally passive expressions as Jazz reached back into the leather sack to pull out the metallic object.

In the darkness, where not even the moon shone through the thick clouds, Jazz could only feel the shape of the mysterious object. It was between the size of a golf ball and a tennis ball, fitting in the palm of her small hand only barely. Whilst pulling the thing from the sack, a long metal chain had slumped out, no doubt attached to whatever Jazz held in her shaking hands.  _Must be a necklace… or a decoration…_  Jazz mused, gently sliding her fingers over the object whilst sniffing the metal.  _Smells of iron… maybe… blood? Was it won in a battle? Five… no… six protrusions… two spiked on either side of the two curved. The curves feel like… a beak? A snout? Who’d wear a pendant that looks like a bird?_  It was then, that Jazz stiffened, hearing the sound of hooves impacting dirt. It sounded like a stampede and echoed seemingly all around the small woman, as she pulled herself and the stolen belongings further into the thick shadow, quickly slipping the necklace over her head to wear.

Jazz curled into a ball, knees tucked into her chest, back to the trunk of a particularly large tree, and enclosed on either side by tree roots. She was positioned on the side of the tree facing away from the road, but Jazz threw the leather bag into the shrubbery just to make sure that no part of her peeked out from the tree’s protection. Then, once properly settled, Jazz clamped both her hands over her mouth, waiting for the approaching group to pass and leave.

The sound of horses came closer, loud and louder still until a hollar of, “HALT!” echoed in the trees and the gallops came to a sudden stop on the dirt path, not even ten feet away from where Jazz sat. There were a few seconds of silence where Jazz did not dare breathe, no inhale or exhale, simply frozen in place. Waiting.

Then, the sound of jiggling metal before a thud with several following. One, two, three men it seemed, had dismounted. Why? Jazz wondered, feeling as if she’d forgotten something.

“That’s one of o’r swords, aw’right.” Jazz froze in place when one of the men spoke, and she wanted to hit herself for forgetting to hide the sword as well. She didn’t think that the people of White Orchard were willing to chase her all the way to the forests near Dorian. Such a journey was foolish, especially over a horse.

“Da tracks ‘ed fur’er down ‘a the road. Ya ‘ink the thief dropped the silv’a s’ord?”  _Silver sword?_  Jazz blanched and felt sick to her stomach. No one from White Orchard would carry a silver blade, so whoever these men were, if they found her, she’d wish she were dead.

“I don’t care. I just want my trophy back.” It was a harsh voice that spoke this time. Deep, gravelly, from years of use. The pronunciation indicated someone who was actually taught to speak and read the proper way. And as much as Jazz wanted to be scared of an educated man leading a group of armed men, she couldn’t bring herself to. The necklace around her neck had begun to shake, steady at first, then violently. The lady of another world finally knew what she had in her possession.

“Ya mean tha’ mu’ant’s pendant?”  _A Witcher’s medallion. School of the Griffin. These men killed the witcher it belonged to._  It made sense now. These men were witcher hunters… and they’d somehow taken down a witcher from the Griffin school.  _I knew that witcher hunters hunted and killed magic users… mages… sorceresses… the like… but to think that they’d travel south to kill a witcher of all things…_  Suddenly, Jazz didn’t know what to be scared of more. The overzealous witcher hunters on the road, or the threat within the forest that the medallion vibrated in warning of.

“You two,” Jazz moved to slowly crawl into the brush as the leader of the group started to speak, “we’re searching the area.”

 _I’ll take my chances with whatever lurks in the dark._  Jazz thought after weighing the two evils, continuing on her hands and knees.  _They’re searching… but if I go slow enough…_  “Hey! Ah found ‘em!”  _Ah shit!_  Jazz cursed in her head as she scrambled to her feet, running further into the forest, the witch hunters running and following closely behind.

“Get back here, you fucking thief!”

As much as she knew better than to speak, Jazz did, snarling as she ran, “Piss off, you cock sucker! I’m not giving the medallion back!”

“Motherfucker, ‘tis a bitch!”

A laugh, “Run all you want, whore! Once we get to you, your cunt is ours!”

 _Nope!_  Jazz squinted, trying to see better in the woods. If she could lose her pursuers, it would be worth getting lost in the woods.  _Need to run left as soon as possible, or I’ll end up running towards the Pontar._  Jazz’s stomach gurgled.  _Need food. Can’t run forever._  The Griffin medallion around her neck sudden shook beyond violently, and in the distance, Jazz could see a towering and lean figure emerge from the forest floor. She didn’t know what it was until she heard the wolves.  _Turning now!_  The medallion had been warning her of that creature… and with its violent nature, she knew that she had to get out of the woods as soon as humanly possible.

Quickly pivoting in place, and stumbling on a raised tree root, Jazz paused to take a quick breather before sprinting back the way she came, passing the witch hunters in the blink of an eye. “Thank you for your contribution!” Jazz called as she ran past, her voice chipper despite the heavy breathing. The men had stopped running, startled that the woman they were pursuing had run back towards them. Jazz, however, didn’t care to look back. A mere twenty ten seconds later, she heard the sound of screams from behind her.

Another few minutes of running later, Jazz reached the dirt path, where three mares awaited. Not stopping to breath, Jazz scrambled atop an obsidian colored mare and gripped the reins, “Ha!” With a neigh, the horse took off down the main road towards Velen.

Not even a hundred meters down the road, however, a trail of tree roots burst from the forest, stabbing Jazz’s second stollen steed and bringing both mare and rider down to the dirt path in a violent tumble. When Jazz regained control of her body, she scrambled to her feet, finding that her dominant arm was twisted at an odd angle, and that her left leg hurt whenever she placed pressure on it. Liquid dripped down her face and Jazz raised her undamaged left arm to wipe at it, coming away sticky.  _Blood. Great. Glasses are broken as well._

A loud cry filled the forest. Inhuman, yet sentient and haunting. Then, one by one, a wolf appeared from the forest to a total of seven. Each were slightly different in color, white, timber, black, brown… And each snarled, backs hunched, mouths open, staring down the little injured human. Jazz backed away from the pack of wolves, limping slowly. Despite not running, the young woman’s breathing began to quicken, a sigh of distress as her eyes flickered back and forth. She wanted to run, but Jazz knew that she wouldn’t get far with her leg in such a state.

She was thoroughly fucked.

Jazz whimpered, and her face went warm as her eyes stung. And then, for the first time in nearly five days, the young woman broke, sobbing and not even noticing the unnaturally tall figure rise from the shrubbery behind her. “I wanna go home! I don’t want to be in this horrible world! Let me go back!” Jazz cried and hiccuped, stepping back again, to increase the distance from the wolves. But when her back bumped into veiny bark and cloth, she turned and glanced up, acknowledging the leshen with dead and resigned eyes before leaning forward and pressing her forehead to the leshen’s abdomen, crying with renewed vigor. “I don’t wanna die!”

It’s easy to say that Jazz should run away, or that she should have grabbed the silver sword from the dead horse and fight back. Anything besides using a leshen, a malicious forest relict creature, as a sob pillow. But the woman… no… the girl… for that was what she was in that situation, was tired, hungry, lonely, and hurt. Her will had gotten her so far, but it wasn’t enough. Whether she run or fight back, Jazz knew that she was a dead woman. Violence towards creatures is often retaliated with violence, and if, on the slim chance, the leshen has an instance of kindness… Jazz would risk surrendering.

For a while, the leshen merely stood still, as if puzzled by the weeping girl touching him. “If you’re going to kill me… I beg of you to make it quick.”

The leshen was old, having lived in the woods around Dorian for many centuries. Few humans dared to venture into its forest, and those who did often brought harm towards the trees and the animals. And those who brought violence would receive violence in return. The villagers down the way had taken to calling it a forest guardian, as most humans mistakenly did. By all means, it was a monster, living for the kill of any who trespassed. It was why it had followed the small human as she entered its lands. Why it watched her in the dark as she was ejected from atop her steed when the mare had sensed the ekimmara that also stalked the pair. The ancient relict had stayed to watch the sole danger to its forest while the ekimmara chased after the fleeing horse. The human had overstayed its welcome, and as the leshen approached the woman as she sat in the cover of the trees, ready to slay her with roots, it was then that the other humans arrived atop steeds of their own. These humans held blades of silver and chased after the smaller human, cutting down branches and small shrubs in order to reach the defenseless human. The violence was enough to anger the ancient leshen into action, calling upon the wolves and crows of the forest to attack the men, and then to attack the woman as she sought to flee on horseback. And though it regrets killing the midnight colored mare, the leshen could not allow the woman to survive, believing that she would take to the forest with a silver blade in hand and attack.

Yet to the ancient one’s surprise, the woman had merely surrendered itself, body language limp and accepting of whatever came. Submissive. Giving the leshen all the power over her fate. The voices within it, deep and primal, roared for it to kill, to slither its roots around the small and fragile body and crush its ribcage. And yet another voice purred soothingly, pleased with the submissive sensibility of the human woman. Then it purred in delight, muttering something in an ancient language that might equal to  _female_.

Jazz’s breathing hitched when she felt the leshen lay its hands on her and the echoing voice returned. The edges of her vision slowly began to go dark as the small woman struggled weakly. “Wha? Stop! What are you doing?” Jazz grunted in alarm when the leshen seemed to glow eerily, the runes on its body lighting up with some sort of magic. From merely playing the games and reading the books, Jazz only knew the leshens to be simple and malicious creatures. Never has it been recorded to be able to, for lack of a better description,  _glow a deep and bright green_. And not knowing what was happening… it scared Jazz, as much as it scared her to die in a foreign world.

But then, as the darkness crept at the edges of her vision, Jazz heard a loud pop before her body was sent into fits and spasms of pain. “Ah!” The pain concentrated on her right shoulder, left leg, and torso, but the searing feeling that came from the leshen’s touch spread throughout her entire body. It felt as if her insides were burning, and Jazz had to scream in pain, attempting to twist out of the leshen’s grasp. “Stop! Please! It hurts!”

But the ancient being wouldn’t listen, continuing in its work, which, to Jazz seemed like torture befitting the reputation that leshens had developed. The leshen didn’t stop, not when Jazz had passed out from the pain, and not when the wolves started to feast upon the terrified mares down the road. The leshen only stopped when the sun had risen above the horizon, and it had finished what it had set out to do. With a final haunting call, the ancient being disappeared, retreating into the forest it protected, and leaving the young woman completely healed, upon the forest floor.

Those who understood the leshen’s parting words shivered.

_Mine. Free._

Moments later, Jazz opened her eyes, blinking the blurs in her vision away slowly and gathering her thoughts. And then, she bolted upright with a strangled gasp, sitting in the overgrown grass and feeling around her torso, then her arm, and finally her leg. She remembered the pain from being held in the leshen’s grasp, being chased by the witcher hunters, getting thrown from a horse two times in one night…

“A dream?” Jazz wondered aloud, noticing that her glasses were fixed as well… and then she turned around and saw the mare carcass, now missing chunks of meat from where the wolves had feasted on the majestic creature. A gulp, and Jazz stood, “Not a dream…” her hand reached up and gripped the witcher’s medallion around her neck, “The leshen let me go? And healed me?” with narrowed eyes, Jazz stood on shaky legs to loot the mare corpse, knowing that she had to get to someone who could help. “Leshens are not benevolent, it did something to me and I need to know what.”

Gathering as much food into one leather pack as she could, Jazz took the silver sword laying where it fell last night, and started down the road again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the feedback, comments, and kudos!


	5. A Brief Respite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tenacity and hardiness, plus the sheer will to survive got Jazz far enough... but a human body can only do so much until it forcefully shuts down.

Crow’s Perch, Velen

[Six days later] 29 Blathe, Year 1272

 

At approximately the seventeenth hour of the day, a short figure made their way up the path to Crow’s Perch. The person looked to be no taller than a boy in his early adolescence, but carried a single sword in their left hand. The two guardsmen posted atop the path and at the entrance of the bridge had to squint their eyes to see more detail of the small traveler. The stranger was slumped forward, shrouded in a black cloak, and had a medallion hung around their neck. The medallion, however, is what caught the guards’ attention. After the recent events that took place within Velen, nearly all guardsmen under the Bloody Baron’s employment knew that a silver medallion shaped in the resemblance of a fierce beast meant that the carrier was a witcher. 

 

“Eye, Todd, look’ere. ‘Tis another freak.” one guard whispered to the other, the two guardsmen sneering openly at the approaching witcher. It didn’t matter that the White Wolf was helping the Baron, a mutant was a mutant, and a freak was a freak, no amount of good deeds would change their opinions. After all, the reputation on witchers would never be sparkling clean. And witchers were known to be tough sons of bitches, men lacking of emotion, and doing business in a morally grey manner.

 

So it came to their mutual surprise that once the witcher in question had reached them, they’d muttered a small cheer, voice croaking but very clearly feminine, before collapsing at the foot of the bridge, the cloak hood falling and long dark hair flew out. The woman witcher fell to the floor with a dull thud as the two men stood staring in shock.

 

For a long moment there was silence as the two guards stared at the fallen woman, then…

 

“Ploughing arse. It’s a girl!” With the reveal of the witcher actually being a small woman, the two northern men changed their tune quickly enough. After all, one couldn’t resist the opportunity to assist a damsel in distress… even if they were a mutant.

 

The other guard, Todd, rolled his eyes at his partner’s observation, “Like I didn’t know that, you fucking idiot. Now help me bring her to the Baron.” Todd crouched down next to the young lady and gently slid his arms under, barely making a grunt as he lifted her up, the medallion clinking. Turning to cross the long wooden bridge, he nodded at his partner, “Come on, Gav. You carry the sword and pack.”

 

Gav gave out a cry of protest, believing it beyond unfair that his partner got to carry the woman like a princess, but his protests dissolved into nonsensical and incoherent sounds as Todd walked further and further away, ignoring the outrage from the man. Huffing indignantly, Gav bend down to gather up the sheathed sword and leather sack in his hands before turning and making his way across the bridge as well, signalling the tower guards to go replace them at the beginning of the bridge.

 

Once the younger soldier caught up with his friend, Gav slowed to a brisk walk, his eyes trained on the woman’s face as they made their way past gaping townsfolk and raised brows. “I didn’t know women could be witchers. Ey, Todd? You think that they kidnapped her and made her into one of ‘em?”

 

Todd gave a noncommittal grunt, green eyes flickering down and up to keep an eye on the woman as well as to not run into anything on the path. “They might have, Gav. But she’s the first female witcher I’ve seen.”

 

Gav didn’t seem too pleased with the answer, but stayed silent knowing that not many people actually knew about witchers. No one liked the monster hunters, but Gav wasn’t stupid enough that he didn’t realize the most rumors about the witchers weren’t true. Still, Gav stared openly at the unconscious girl while Todd dared to only take fleeting glances. “She don’t look like she’s from the North. Why’s that?”

 

“Eyes and nose are small.” Todd answered, stating his observation from the short trip up the dirt path. They were only just reaching the castle gates where the two soldiers were let in, the iron gates opening up with groaning gears. “High cheekbones… she’s probably from the south… or not. Face isn’t long enough. Too round.”

 

“Y-you think she’s from the east? Past the Blue Mountains?” Gav wondered in awe, staring at the female witcher with a new found interest. 

 

Todd didn’t get the chance to answer Gav. As they made their way into the Baron’s courtyard, they noticed that the Baron was already outside of his large estate, pacing the courtyard. For a moment, neither guard said a thing, eyeing their lord with unsure eyes before Gav cleared his throat. “My Lord?”

 

Philip Strenger was a portly man, tall, as was common for the people of the Northern Realms, and might have been fairly ruggedly handsome in his prime. Now, however, the man stank of hard ale and beer. The rotund lord turned and halted in his steps, amber eyes narrowing as he stared down the men. “What do you want?”

 

Long tired of their lord’s rudeness, but not being able to do anything about it, Todd spoke up with his usual impassive voice, meant to betray no emotion. “A woman collapsed at the crossroads.” The guard held out the unconscious woman’s body, “She wears a witcher’s medallion.”

 

The Bloody Baron stared down at the woman for a long while as Todd and Gav shifted uncomfortably. Then, with a great bob of his head, gestured to his manor and commanded, “Bring her to the guest room and have one of the maids tend to her. Let me know when the girl wakes.” With that command, the Baron resumed his pacing, hands clenching at his sides when thinking about the news that Geralt had brought about his wife.

 

Not at all surprised that the Baron would grant the woman shelter, Todd and Gav quickly gave their acknowledgments before practically running into the manor and setting about making the fallen witcher comfortable.

 

[Ten hours later]

 

_ Crash. BOOM _

 

“Damns it all, dun disturb ‘er, you dumb creature!”

 

Jazz groaned and shifted in the bed, “Dun wanna wake up….” It was warm and soft, the pillow underneath Jazz’s head, a comfort, and the blanket covering her, a warm embrace. The exhausted woman didn’t want to leave bed in order to address the sudden noises and struggle inside her room.  _ Wait… bed… room… _

 

Her brows furrowed, though her eyes remained closed, and she muttered, “This isn’t right.” Jazz cautiously turned to lay on her other side before gingerly popping a tired eye open. Although she didn’t have her glasses on, Jazz was able to make out the blurred shapes of a man dragging a…  _ struggling something _ out the door, the wooden door shutting with a  _ slam. _

 

With how tired her mind and body was, Jazz hummed thoughtfully at the sight she’d just witnessed before turning back over to her previous position to bury herself in the blankets, letting sleep take her once more. “I’ll deal with it later….” Sleep came first.

 

[not even four hours later]

 

Jazz regained consciousness not four hours later, well rested, but unwilling to open her eyes.  _ It feels like it’s been years since I’ve slept on a bed.  _ The asian woman thought in deep contentment, happy with the way the blanket warmed her, even happy for the somewhat scratchy material of the mattress, knowing that memory foam didn’t exist yet. The thought that she was in the Bloody Baron’s estate warmed her the slightest, knowing that, as a girl, she’ll not come to any harm within the walls of Crow’s Perch.  _ Such a welcome change. _

 

It had been hell during the six days traveling from where she was attacked by the leshen. After that incident, Jazz had been scared to travel at night, sticking to the main roads by day, and taking shelter in the barns of various strangers at night. Everything went well for the first three nights, enjoying a routine with sleep and food included. However, everything good must eventually come to an end. 

 

On her fifth day of travel, Jazz reached the beginning edges of Crookback Bog. Even during the day, the place scared the hell out of the girl. If she could think of one place in all of the continent that would be the worst place to end up, it would be in the bog. Jazz had weighed her options at the time, to go into the bog, or to walk around it. Walking around would take more time, and she wanted to reach Crow’s Perch as soon as possible, but a quick glance at the silver sword in her grip, Jazz winced and began her trip around the bog. She couldn’t even lift the sword long enough to take a proper swing, there was no way that Jazz was stubborn enough to walk through the bog.

 

Not even a few hours into her journey around the bog, when the sun had begun to set, Jazz encountered an archgriffin. She’d been walking with the sun setting in her face, and therefore could not see that she had the attention of the beast flying above. The winged creature stalked Jazz for a great few minutes before it gave out a mighty cry, alerting her to its presence. And with it being a hunter, it was delighted when Jazz had glanced up with wide and shocked doe eyes. And like an unthinking fool, Jazz ran as fast as her legs could carry her, the archgriffin shrieking as it dove after her, wanting to play with its food.

 

_ Oh God. Oh FUCKING GOD. Let there be some sort of divine miracle!  _ Jazz had practically screamed in her head, intending to speak, but only a shrill and strangled sound left her throat. She was foolish to pray, to wish for a miracle, to wish for her luck to change. There was no god looking after her, there were only fates and destinies. And if there was a god, then it would have been no friend of the Earth-girl because it wouldn’t have taken Jazz from her homeworld to begin with.

 

In the end, Jazz ran until the archgriffin became bored of her, and by then, she’d been running blindly, ending up further than she wanted to be and back to where she had stopped to look at the bog. With the sun nearly gone for the sky, Jazz had been forced to travel back up the path to a small area clear of shrubbery, sitting down against a tree and forced to wait through the night, forced to stay awake in case of danger.

 

The following morning, Jazz stood from her resting place and decided to brave the bog, knowing that her witcher’s medallion would notify her of any immediate danger. But the medallion only just managed to save her from danger, shaking just as the drowners and waterhags rose from the shallow waters to attack, or just as the occasional foglet started to stalk her. And in those occasions, despite not having eaten in a day at least, Jazz found the strength to run and continue running even as she left the bog. She was weak and tired, running on pure adrenaline. Eventually, her body would give out, and when they did, Jazz wanted it to be as far away from Crookback Bog as possible.

 

When and where she had collapsed, Jazz didn’t remember, only knowing that she had been woken from her sleep by the screams of a certain cursed individual barging into the room.

 

_ Crow’s Perch.  _ Jazz scoffed in disbelief at being so fortunate as to be brought to the very place wanted to be. Unbelievable, but Jazz would take any good turn of events at that point.  _ It’s a nice reprieve. _ Jazz curled up further into the blankets, relaxing a bit more.

 

“Ti’s been a day, why won’t the girl wake up?” Jazz’s eyes startled open at the voices approaching her room door. Both were men, but she didn’t recognize either.

 

“It’s been only half a day. For all we know, she’d been traveling for longer without sleep.”

 

“Poor girl, trav’lin all by ‘er lonesome. An’ from far eas’ too. Bet you that she ‘as the cat eyes.”

 

“You’re assuming things, Gav. Just like when you assumed she was half elf.”

 

“Wot! But ‘er face!” the exclamation was cut short when the men,  _ soldiers _ , Jazz amended, entered the room and froze in place, suddenly face to face with the very awake ‘witcher woman.’

 

“Uh….” the man on the left could only open and close his mouth, at a loss for how to approach the woman, who, now that she was awake, was very obviously  **not** a witcher.

 

Jazz’s expression, ever set impassive, slowly morphed into resting bitch face at being gawked at. “Well? Are you coming in? Or are you both going to stare at me from the threshold?”

 

Gav, or at least Jazz suspected his name to be Gav, what with his very distinct manner of speech, frantically scrambled to push his companion through the threshold and shut the door behind them, practically screaming his apologies, which had Jazz raising her brows in surprise at the sudden increase in volume. He was a tall man, as was characteristic of a northerner, but was a bit more on the lean side, a bit gangly whilst clad in the steel armor, but easier to look at than expected.  _ Especially his face. _ Jazz thought in amusement,  _ An adorable shade of baby blue for eyes, sharp nose, and a fair complexion unlike the blotchy red. Definitely younger than me. _ “M’sorry, ma’am!” When his companion said nothing, Gav slapped his arm, “Todd… apologize…” Gav hissed, attempting to be discreet, yet Jazz heard him nonetheless, and she couldn’t help but approve.  _ Hn.. he’s got manners, too. His parents raised him well at least. Better than most men in the 21st century. _

 

Todd gave a deep glower at Gav, who despite his shaking legs, didn’t hesitate to stare his partner down. He was a bit shorter than Gav, more broadly built, but still a good head taller than Jazz. Like Gav, Todd was unexpectedly different than what Jazz had seen.  _ He’s remarkably handsome… in a bad boy sort of way... _ He had a narrow face with decent cheekbones, defined brows, and thin lips with fierce green eyes, which softened slightly when they turned to glance upon the bedridden woman. “I’m sorry.” His voice was a smooth tenor, on the lower spectrum and contrasted heavily with Gav’s higher tenor, and in any other situation, Jazz would have swooned.

 

Jazz, at the two men’s apology, bowed her head in embarrassment, ashamed of losing her temper. Her dirtied black hair, disheveled, fell to frame the sides of her head, “No… I’m sorry for yelling.” She muttered, not liking having to apologize, but she knew when she’d also erred. 

 

An awkward silence filled the room for a long moment, something that Jazz had long since become accustomed to from her time with her relatives, and again while traveling alone. In fact, Jazz could go a long time without talking if she had to. Gav, evidently, didn’t have the same aptitude for withstanding silence as she did, filling the silence with loud gulps before he spoke in a kind yet curious voice. “I ‘ope you’re feel’in better. Todd an’ I were worr’ed abou’ ya when ya collapsed a’ the crossroads.”

 

The woman’s brown eyes lifted to settle on the two men still standing in the room, a warmth filling her gaze at the concern. And try as she might to give the slightest of smiles like she’d seen ladies of wealth and status give, she couldn’t help the full-blown and bright smile that was a trademark of hers, straight top row of teeth showing and all. “I’m fine, just suffering from a bit of exhaustion from traveling from White Orchard. Thank you for asking, Gav.”

 

Jazz wasn’t sexy, she knew that much. She wasn’t drop dead gorgeous with a tall and lean build with curves. She wasn’t a Yennefer of Vengerberg, a Triss Merigold, or even a Ciri. She was nothing of what men desired, and it made her sad at times, but more often glad. Jazz, despite envying the bodies of multiple women, actually liked that she was short and all curves, that she had a cute face and looked younger than she really was. In the end, Jazz was unique, and she didn’t really care if certain men didn’t find her attractive. Yet still, when Jazz noticed the slightest blush on Gav’s face, and Todd’s stare, she couldn’t help the thrill and satisfaction that filled her.

 

“N-no! I-it-’tis my pleasure!” Gav’s face lit up and a crooked closed eyed smile decorated his facade. From next to him, Todd snickered at the dopey expression, and Jazz could only gaze at the taller man with a twinkle in her eyes, oddly reminded of a happy puppy.

 

Still smiling, Jazz gestured towards the seats in the room, “If you two have questions, I’ll be happy to answer them.” Her grin went crooked and playful, “But you’ll have to indulge a few of my own in return.”

 

The curiosity that toiled within the two men fueled their obedience, both nodding their assent to the mutual questions.

 

Todd was the first to ask a question, “Are you a witcher? A monster slayer? And from where do you hail?”

 

_ Be honest. Don’t start lying again. You’re doing too well to go back into your habit. _ Jazz reminded herself lightly before taking a deep breath and answering the questions directed at her. “I’m not from the Northern Realms, nor am I from East of the Blue Mountains. I’m not a witcher, and I’m not a monster slayer.” she grit her teeth in embarrassment, “In fact, I’m not strong enough to swing a silver sword.”

 

Gav gestured wildly towards the medallion that hung around Jazz’s neck, “But the medallion! Only witchers ‘ave that!”

 

Glancing down at the griffin medallion, Jazz brought a hand up to lightly caress the beak. “Oh… this… I uh… stole it off some witch hunters. They killed a witcher and took the medallion as a trophy.”

 

Green eyes narrowed just the slightest, “You’re not a wanted woman, right?”

 

Jazz merely shook her head, eyes getting a little glazed over, “Not anymore.”

 

“Not anymore?” just the slightest shift in his body language, and Jazz saw Todd reach for the sword at his side. “What did you do?”

 

“Didn’t do anything.” Jazz muttered, hand shifting to brush against her right arm, the arm that broken when the leshen threw her from the black mare. “The leshen got to them when they were chasing me.”

 

“LESHEN?” At the mention of such a ferocious creature, Gav nearly leapt from his chair, “You were attacked by a leshen?” When excited, it seemed Gav lost all traces of his distinct speech.

 

Jazz nodded, eyes still far away, thinking back to the attack. “I ran when it killed my mare.” It wasn’t a lie, she only omitted several details.

 

… “You’re n’t much of a talk’r are’t ya?” Gav mused, evidently disappointed in the lack of details within Jazz’s answers.

 

“An introvert?” Todd questioned, leaning in his seat with a little difficulty due to the heavy armor.

 

“I speak enough when asked.” was the bedridden girl’s response, “I don’t like long explanations when the question is simple. And people don’t like it when someone is long-winded… I know I don’t.”

 

“So you’re not an introvert. Extroverted?” Todd seemed baffled at the possibility.

 

Another embarrassed grin, “Contrary to how I appear, I usually can’t shut up if you catch me in a good mood.”

 

Todd snorted, teasing, “And what is an extroverted little girl doing collapsing at the crossroads anyways?”

 

One blink, then two. “I’m not a little girl. I’m probably older than Gav.”

 

“Wot!? NO YOU’RE NOT!” Gav screeched, “THERE’S NO WAY!” and there went his accent again.

 

“I just passed my twenty-first spring.” Jazz smiled at the stunned expressions. “I don’t look my age, I know.”

 

Gav, meanwhile, only paled in disbelief, “... two springs older…”

 

Todd guffawed at Gav’s expression, nearly bent over and in tears at the younger man’s reaction, before turning to Jazz and snorted, “Okay. What’s a lady like you doing in Velen?”

 

Fond of how normal the situation was when compared to what had transpired over the past few days, Jazz shook her head and answered, “I’m tracking down someone, and thought that I might find some information here.”

 

The curiosity in the two men came back, “W’ho are you look’in for?”

 

Jazz bit her bottom lip nervously before answering, “The White Wolf, Geralt of Rivia.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well... Jazz got lucky. Really lucky...  
> Thank you for all the kudos! And thank you, Daovihi and elfblooded, for all the comments and feedback! :D


	6. Uma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh... you didn't think Jazz would be in Crow's Perch and not try to be friends with Uma, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also... today... I'd like to take the time to mourn for Linkin Park's lead singer, Chester Bennington, who committed suicide last night. 
> 
> The band as a whole, but Chester's voice especially, is what got me through a time in my life where I felt that nobody was on my side. That I was too different, that I had caused so much strife within my family. And it was his voice, the music that he and his friends created, that lifted me up, allowed me to vent, and inspired me to write. So, even if it's just here, I wanted to say, "Thank you, Chester. For lifting me out of an endless void. I'm just sad that we couldn't help do the same for you."

**The curiosity in the two men came back, “W’ho are you look’in for?”**

 

**Jazz bit her bottom lip nervously before answering, “The White Wolf, Geralt of Rivia.”**

 

“And what business would you have with the man?” A booming voice inquired with the opening of the wooden door. All three heads turned at the sudden intrusion, each face with a varied degree of expression. Gav, hilariously, went wide-eyed, like a deer caught in headlights. Todd seemed annoyed for the slightest of moments before his face went impassive, not wanting to give the newcomer a reason to reprimand him. And Jazz was a strange mix of exasperation and shock, as if she didn’t know if the sudden intruder in the conversation was welcomed or not.

 

But sure enough, the Bloody Baron strolled into the room, acting like he owned the place (which he did), glaring at Todd and Gav, “I thought I told you two to tell me when she woke!” Todd and Gav turned the slightest bit pale at being reprimanded, and Jazz’s gaze turned into a glare at the Baron’s tone. She was rather quickly growing fond of the two soldiers.

 

Jazz didn’t know what she expected when she was finally able to meet the Baron. Perhaps she expected a carbon copy of the man from the Wild Hunt game back on Earth. The tall northern man with salt and pepper colored hair decorating his head and his beard. The rotund man with a swollen face and blotchy red skin. And indeed, the Bloody Baron that entered the room was similar in some ways to the character from the game. Although instead of the blotchy red that decorated his face, it was a light pink blotchiness, and the beard, which was larger and fuller than the game, was more gray than black. His brows, thick, untrimmed, were large enough to nearly overshadow his small beady eyes. The northerners might have considered Philip Strenger handsome at some point in his life, but Jazz found him and his stench, undesirable.

 

 _He’s not a terrible man, by far. Soft on women, but he was still an alcoholic if the swelling of his body was anything to go by._ Jazz sniffed noticeably and glared down at herself. _Actually… I need a bath. How many days has it been?_ A sour smell was coming off of her body, pits especially, and Jazz found it amazing that Todd and Gav hadn’t passed out from the sheer intensity of the odor.

 

The Baron must have noticed Jazz’s sudden realization, and merely gave a jolly and good natured laugh, “Ah, but answers can wait until after you’ve had a bath, young lady.” The Baron opened the door and gave a mighty bellow down the hallway, “MAIDS! DRAW A BATH FOR OUR GUEST!” The lord of Crow’s Perch lumbered out of the room, “WELL? Quickly now!”

 

“Yes, my lord!” came several meek cries before feet were heard pattering up and down the halls.

 

Jazz moved to stand, the blankets falling off her body, and revealing that she had only been clad in her small clothes the entire time. Black boy shorts and black bra was all that covered Jazz, yet while Gav and Todd scrambled to cover their eyes, Jazz could hardly care less. “Oh?” the nearly naked woman gave a teasing smile. “Haven’t either of you seen a woman’s body before?”

 

“IT’S NOT DECENT!” Gav screeched from his seat, trying to scramble away from Jazz. “HAVE SOME DIGNITY!”

 

“My name is Jazz.” the woman snickered adoring the red blush that spread along both men’s faces under their hands. “And I’m to take a bath, so let’s go.” Jazz, feeling an uncommon confidence, sauntered with swaying hips towards the door.

 

“NO!” Jazz jumped at the shout from right behind, and suddenly she was wrapped in the bed sheets and lifted into armor clad arms. Brown eyes turned to look up, and Jazz was surprised to see that it was Todd carrying her out of the room, his green eyes decidedly locked on anything but her.

 

“AGAIN?” Gav cried out from the room, once again the one who wasn’t able to carry Jazz like a bride. “YOU SAID IT WAS MY TURN!”

 

“You’re too slow.” Todd teased, a smirk lighting up his normally grim face. But when he saw Jazz gazing up at him fondly, the smirk disappeared and he huffed.

 

 _Oh?_ Jazz mused in interest at Todd’s strange turn in behavior. _Something eating at him. Interesting._ _I wanna know more._ But Jazz left it be, knowing how annoying it was for people to pick at matters buried deep within, instead focusing on examining her surroundings as Todd carried her into the bathroom, where several maids were working on filling the bathtub with a mixture of boiling hot water from the fire in the corner and cold water being carried in from a source outside the manor.

 

With a clear of his throat, Todd had cleared all the maids and servants from the room. And when the door to the steaming chamber was firmly closed, only then did he gently set his charge down, careful to subtly make sure that Jazz had stable footing before letting go of his hold. The subtleness of his actions allowed them to go unnoticed by Jazz as she dropped the bed sheet and started to walk around the bathroom.

 

When you play a game like the Witcher, you never really pay attention to the insignificant details. You don’t really care where the bathrooms are, where the kitchen is, where the dining room is… _Because in the grand scheme of things, it doesn’t matter._ Jazz thought, stopping to observe the lit candles on a small vanity. _When you’re Geralt of Rivia… the White Wolf…  the only things that mattered were staying alive, killing harmful monsters, and finding Ciri. Romance and helping people were side quests usually. Mundane things were unimportant._ A self-deprecating chuckle. _If you live an exciting life, all you wish for is the mundane._

 

“The bars on the vanity are different scented soaps.” Jazz’s head turned so fast that she nearly got whiplash. Todd merely eyed the silent woman for a short moment before turning to leave the bathroom. "Everyone is going to lunch, I’ll go save some food for you.” He paused just as he was about to close the door, “No one should bother you, but just in case, there’s a knife in the cabinet. Your clothes were washed and are folded on the shelf.” And then he was gone.

 

Jazz waited until the footsteps had retreated before turning to the vanity once more, picking up the various soaps to sniff. It took several whiffs, but a dark purple colored soap appealed to Jazz the most, scented elderberries and blackberries. Staring into the mirror, despite the slight blurriness to her vision, Jazz could see the filth that caked her body and hair, causing her to frown, not liking that she’d have to sit in whatever filth came off her.

 

And then, from the side, Jazz recognized  a wooden seat and bucket next to a nozzle and pipe. Humming in curiosity, Jazz silently made her way towards the pipe, where she turned the nozzle. A rumble and rattle as the pipe shook before water spewed from the spout and into the floor drain. Pleased that there was a form of a shower, Jazz slipped off her undergarments and sat on the wooden stool, bending her head under the nozzle to soak her long black locks. Then, once she was satisfied that her head had been wet enough, Jazz went about scrubbing her scalp, using her fingernails to get the dirt. And she scrubbed until the water started to drain clear again before moving on to her face and body, getting as much dirt off as possible before turning off the water and standing up, the water running down her body and chilling her.

 

Finally satisfied that she wouldn’t be sitting in her own filth, Jazz carefully made her way back to the vanity to grab the berry scented soap, trying not to slip on the wet floor, before moving towards the bathtub and gingerly dipping her right leg in to test the temperature. When she found that the water was pleasantly hot, Jazz allowed herself to submerge her body in the water before kneeling to lather up her body with the soap. Being a woman from another world and time all together, Jazz took extra care to scrub her more intimate areas, knowing that such areas should be kept clean as often as possible. Once she had finished with her body did she move on to lather up her hair, wanting to clean the locks of the oils that clung to the strands.

 

When every part of her was cleaned to her satisfaction, Jazz allowed herself to lay back in the tub of soapy warm water, the water reaching her chin, and soap covering her body. In the silence on the bathroom, Jazz finally felt comfortable enough to sing again.

 

 _“Shizuka ni sora ni kaeru anata no sugata wo…. Namida ga kareru made zutto mitsumeteita… afureru kanashimi wa kesenai kizuato ni….. wasure wa shinai to chikatta… oreta tsubasa wo habatakase subete wo keshite miseyou….itsu no hi ka owari wo mukaeru saigo no kane ga nari yamu made…”_ it was really one of the only songs that Jazz could remember the lyrics properly off the top of her head. One of her favorite songs actually. The first Japanese song she’d ever learned to sing completely…. Jazz closed her eyes and hummed the guitar rift, sinking in the warm water a little more so that it covered over her mouth.

 

“Ummmmaaaaa.”

 

Brown eyes snapped open, and bubbles littered the water’s surface as Jazz let out a silent scream, sitting upright in the tub, the griffin medallion shaking from its place on her neck. She stared at the cursed man standing next to the bathtub for a few moments in shock, trying to calm her racing heart. And then she groaned and slid into the water again, eyes still focused on Uma. It was then that Jazz noticed the food splattered all over Uma, and she scrunched her face at his filthy appearance.

 

In her head, Jazz rationalized that as a jester for the Baron, it wasn’t surprising that they threw food at the cursed Aen Elle sage. And yet… Jazz narrowed her eyes at Uma, who hadn’t stopped staring at her, his eyes holding the intelligence that he had as Avallac’h before briefly fading away… And suddenly, Jazz felt bad, terribly so, that Avallac’h, even when cursed with nearly everything distorted, could understand every single thing that happened to him. And Jazz visibly winced and shifted her eyes away, holding onto the trembling medallion, _How horrible it must have been for a sage of the Aen Elle to be humiliated in such a way. All to help the ancestor of a woman he once loved. Because Eredin wanted to humiliate Avallac’h._

 

Inwardly berating herself, Jazz rose from the cover of the bathtub and slowly got out, skin growing goosebumps from the sudden cold. Turning towards Uma, and not really caring that the sage was seeing her naked, Jazz held a hand out and whispered lowly, “Come, Crevan, we’ll get you cleaned up.”

 

Yet Uma gave no indication of recognizing Jazz’s use of his real name, bumbling along and following Jazz’s motions purely by blind instinct. And Jazz could only sigh in disappointment, wanting some way to communicate with Avallac’h. Shaking her head, she brought it upon herself to clean the cursed Aen Elle, humming to herself softly. “ _If I told you this was only gonna hurt… If I warned you that the fire’s gonna burn… Would you walk in?... Would let me do it first?... Do it all in the name of love…”_

 

[Twenty minutes later]

 

After cleaning Uma, and getting both him and herself dressed, Jazz gently took Uma’s hand and led him out of the bathroom, not having as much trouble as most people would… what with Jazz being a mere five feet tall. “Come, I know you don’t eat much, but you should attempt to eat something with me.”

 

As Jazz dragged the cursed elf along with her, she received various odd looks from the servants. Whether it be from her strange attire, the fact that she was walking around barefoot, or that her companion was a proper abomination. And quite honestly, Jazz didn’t care for the opinions of others. Besides, this was the closest to getting home that Jazz has been in more than a week.

 

It still didn’t stop Todd and Gav from screaming profanities when she walked back into her room with Uma though…

 

“WOT ARE YOU DOIN?”

 

“JAZZ! YOU CAN’T KIDNAP BEASTLY MIDGETS!”

 

“But he’s my friend!” Jazz chirped, kneeling down and throwing her arms around Uma in a hug that the cursed being surprisingly accepted.

 

Todd smacked a hand to his face and groaned. “Gav was already a handful, now I have to deal with you?”

 

“You know you love us!” Gav and Jazz chimed in with shit-eating grins on their face.

 

“UMMAAAA!” to Todd’s annoyance the cursed Aen Elle seemed to shriek his answer as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the comments and kudos! I'll post the next chapter as soon as possible!
> 
> -And ah... I realize that there is some mixed opinion in the fandom about Avallac'h. Some believe him to be kind, and others believe him arrogant and cruel, obsessive even. Oh Jazz is very much aware of what kind of person Avallac'h is. He is all of the above because he is a monster like everyone else in this world, even Jazz. No one is without vices, something that Jazz understands intimately from a world where creatures don't exist. 
> 
> "People like to invent monsters and monstrosities. Then they seem less monstrous themselves. When they get blind-drunk, cheat, steal, beat their wives, starve an old woman, when they kill a trapped fox with an axe or riddle the last existing unicorn with arrows, they like to think that the Bane entering cottages at daybreak is more monstrous than they are. They feel better then. They find it easier to live." -Geralt z Rivii [The Last Wish]
> 
> Because in a world without the things that go bump at night, there is no means to make someone seem less monstrous. And when Jazz, someone who has lived in such a world, is thrown into the world of the Witcher, it's easier to see and accept people for what they are. Yes, Avallac'h's actions are creepy and disgusting, as is his obsession, but I can name you various characters that we've slayed on our journey that are more deplorable than Avallac'h.


	7. Geralt Has Stepped Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt has stepped out... time to wait for him... in Crow's Perch... not Jazz's best course of action...

Jazz, finally finished her stew. And everyone in the guest room seemed to be glad for it. The girl in their opinion, bar Uma’s since he was incapable of having one yet, was a monster in her own right. After calming down from her happy high… and hugging away any and all future hugging discomforts from Avallac’h… Jazz had taken a glance at her bowl of stew and frowned before taking a peek at the other two bowls in the room… and forced Todd and Gav to trade her the vegetables in their bowls for the meat in hers. Granted, Jazz liked meat, and she definitely wasn’t allergic to it, but she did prefer more vegetables… So she harassed Gav and Todd to give her theirs. And only once she was satisfied, was when everyone was allowed to eat.

 

A recap of the entire time that Jazz was trying to trade her meat for vegetables consisted of this:

 

“No. You’re not getting any of my vegetables!” Todd denied with a firm shake of his head, arms crossed and green eyes set in a firm stare at Jazz’s pout. “Normally people don’t want to eat their vegetables! Why the bloody hell do you want so many vegetables?” The question came out as a growl, going along with the image of a macho man that he presented, much to Jazz’s displeasure.

 

By her side, Uma groaned, and Jazz turned to the cursed Aen Elle immediately, “Right, Uma? You agree. I should get some more vegetables!”

 

“You got enough from Gav!” Todd insisted, pointed at the taller male, who was sitting in the corner and stuffing his face with the, now, mostly meat filled stew.

 

Gav looked up, a dribble of stew slowly dripping down the corner of his mouth, “Wot? ‘Ah hate veg’tables!” Todd only sighed, slamming a hand to his forehead for the near fifth time that day.

 

“Come on, Todd! Just a few pieces!” Jazz beamed a wide smile, teeth and all at the green eyed man.

 

With a roll of his eyes, Todd finally gave in and held out his bowl. “Fine.”

 

“YES!” 

 

Surprisingly, Jazz took to feeding Uma some of her food and water, gently spooning small scoops of vegetables for Uma to eat. Even more surprising was that Uma willingly eat the food being offered, that spark of sentience within his eyes returning. But Jazz didn’t notice, too intent on the food, and not dropping anything on Uma.

 

And it was while Jazz was cleaning the delicious remains from the bottom of the bowl that the Baron’s men barged into the guest room and demanded that she see the Baron immediately. Grumbling, Jazz stood from her seat, careful not to knock Uma down, before slipping on the leather boots and greaves that Gav bought for her. The two guards, however, also noticed that Uma was in the room, and proceeded to stomp into the room and drag the cursed man kicking and screaming from his seat.

 

“UMAAAA! UMA! UMAAAMAMAMAMA!!!!” the cursed elf screamed, struggling against the soldiers.

 

“LET HIM GO!” Jazz yelled, dropping her wooden bowl on the floor to tackle one of the soldiers away from Uma and attempt to beat the armored man with her metal spoon.

 

“BLOODY HELLS, GIRL! LET GO!” The soldier attempted to pry Jazz off of his waist forcefully. “LET GO OR YOU’LL BE SORRY!” 

 

Uma, meanwhile, had managed to escape the soldier’s hold, and ran out the door. Jazz, still furiously trying to jab a spoon at the man’s armor, yelled after her new friend, “RUN, UMA!”

 

Also meanwhile, Todd and Gav were attempting to pry the smaller woman off of their fellow soldier….

 

[twenty minutes later…]

 

Jazz stood in the middle of the Baron’s office, rocking back and forth on her feet sporting a satisfied smirk at the mess behind her. The Baron, however, glowered at his men, firmly disappointed at their capabilities. “How the hell did you four get so ploughing banged up?”

 

The men only groaned in pain from their spots in the back of the room. Jazz had resisted heavily, not liking being manhandled, but also not liking that they treated Uma so unfairly. The advantage that she had over the men was that she dressed lightly. With no heavy armor to weigh her down, Jazz had full mobility, maneuvering around the men, and aiming punches in the cracks of their armor. It took several good minutes before Jazz was able to subdue the men, being careful with Todd and Gav, but giving the other two men rougher treatment, going so far as to slam her forearms over the sides of the head to discombobulate them. It was why those two men, in particular, were on the floor, unable to stand up.

 

“S-she’s a tricky one, sir....” Todd answered, an uncharacteristic stutter slipping through at the Baron’s unimpressed expression.

 

Philip Strenger snorted, and waved his arm, dismissing the defeated soldiers from the room, “Away with you lot.” The Baron didn’t speak further, waiting for the men to clear the room first, “So, girl. What business do you have searching for Geralt?” He asked this as he leaned back to sit on the edge of his desk, arms crossed and meaning business.

 

“I’m looking for a way home.” Jazz admitted, her brown eyes decidedly honest, though there were moments where she blew upward to get a stray strand of hair out of her face.

 

“That taciturn approach won’t work with me, Jazz.” The Baron shook his head at Jazz’s use of the same approach with Todd and Gav. “I need more information if I’m going to tell you where Geralt is. So you better start explaining.”

 

The woman frowned the slightest bit, not wanting to divulge too much information. With a sigh, Jazz closed her eyes and pressed her lips together. When brown eyes opened once more, Jazz spoke in a resigned tone. “I’m from a place further than past the Blue Mountains. Where I live, I can’t get to simply by horse or walking… not even a boat could help.” Her eyes met the Baron’s, “You understand, right? I need a wielder of magic in order to help me. Even then, I’m not sure if a normal sorceress is strong enough to send me home. That’s why I need to find Geralt, so that he can lead me to someone who can.”

 

“Your home… if it’s so far away, then how did you get here in the first place? And how in blazes name, did you know to look for Geralt of Rivia? Out of all the witchers you could look for, why Geralt.” The Baron was much smarter than he was given credit, which meant that Jazz had to dance around the questions again.

 

“I was taken, kidnapped, if you want to call it that, from my home.” Jazz started, trying to play up the sympathetic damsel card. “I was living away from home at the time. At the university dormitory, when I was taken.” From the softening of the Baron’s eyes, Jazz could tell that her ploy had worked. “I woke up in some abandoned barn a ways from White Orchard. That’s where I heard about The White Wolf.” A sheepish smile, “I uh, may have ran into some trouble there when I was mistaken for a fellow Rivian. I had asked how much a room in the inn was and was, well… tossed out on my ass.”

 

“Now, lass, you’re to tell me why you have a Witcher’s medallion around your neck.” The Baron stared at the face of the griffin intently. “From the look in your eyes, you’re not a witcher.” Jazz stayed silent, not denying that she wasn’t in fact, a witcher. “Then how did you get it?”

 

Jazz made a sour face, not really wanting to tell the Baron. If things went bad here, then it would be very easy to get into contact with any traveling militia of witch hunters. “I stole it from a group of individuals who had hunted down a Witcher of the Griffin School. The medallion is another reason I need to find this, Geralt of Rivia. I felt that at witcher should be in possession of the medallion.”  _ Not some 21 year old gamer girl that’s from another world. _

 

“Well you’re out of luck. Geralt left the day the guards found you.” Strenger informed me, heaving a sigh and shrugging a shoulder.

 

The much smaller girl gaped at the rotund man. “I-I’m sorry.. What?” The Baron gave a look that clearly stated,  _ you heard me, girl. _ And Jazz threw her hands up to hold her head in horror.  _ Holy shit! He left already? THOSE SIX EXTRA DAYS, DAMMIT!  _ Jazz wanted to curse the leshen, but as much as she wanted to, she knew she couldn’t. Had the leshen not appeared when it did, then a worse fate might have befallen Jazz.  _ If I had to choose between two evils, I’d rather not choose at all… huh? _

 

By this point, Jazz had started to pace vigorously in front of the Baron, muttering under her breath and making wild hand gestures. The Baron, only sat back and watched, letting the young woman vent her frustrations. Still, however, the scene was rather amusing to look at. And after a short while of pacing, Jazz abruptly stopped, turning her head so fast that it nearly gave the Baron whiplash. “Do you know if and when he’s returning?”

 

The Baron shrugged, a shake of his head, “He wouldn’t say. Said that he had to go to Oxenfurt and Novigrad for some business. But knowing him…” The Baron paused with a sympathetic expression. “Could take a week, maybe even a month before he’s back.”

 

Jazz slumped over, disappoint evident on her face, lips pulled taut, brows scrunched, and eyes narrowed. But she wasn’t surprised. No. She’d played as Geralt enough times to know that nothing would ever be done in a timely manner. Each person that he does to for help would ask him for a favor. That favor could easily turn into two favors, and so on and so forth. And she didn’t particularly want to travel to anywhere on the Continent without a companion.  _ No choice but to ask to stay in Crow’s Perch. Geralt has to come back for Uma eventually.  _ Biting her lip, Jazz lay on the apprehension especially thick. “Would it be too much to ask if you have need for a worker?” At the raised brow the Baron sent her, Jazz clarified, “I don’t have anywhere to go. I could work for you, and pay for my stay by doing work as a cleaner, a chef, or maid.”

 

Strenger raised a hand to silence the rambling girl, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “What do you know about monsters, Jazz?”

 

Both brows raised high up. “I know more than the average man, Lord Strenger.” Which was true. She had the entire Witcher 3 bestiary memorized with some knowledge from the books. “Why?”

 

The Bloody Baron smirked and leaned forward, “I’ve in need of an advisor to help my men deal with those creatures. Geralt isn’t available, so I’d like to hire you.”

 

The 21 year old looked incredulous, “Me?” It felt like a terrible dream, “You want me to help your men fight against creatures?” Jazz glanced down at herself before looking the Baron directly in his eyes, all facades dropping as she pointed at herself, “I can barely hold a sword! What good am I?”

 

The older man only shrugged, “We could teach ya how to use a sword. And you’d be more of an alarm for my men. Warn them if anything evil is lurking when you’re on the road.”

 

_ I’m just a glorified radar.  _ Jazz thought with alarm, but she still found herself nodding her head in agreement. “You have yourself a deal.”  _ I just need to pay attention to the medallion… and learn how to brew decoctions or oils. Goddamn it, I NEED TO BREW OILS!  _ Once outside of the Baron’s office, Jazz’s eyes went wide in alarm.  _ I NEED TO BREW OILS AND DECOCTIONS! I ALMOST FAILED CHEMISTRY! _

 

Jazz Amarante… amateur Witcher… This didn’t sound like a disaster at all...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fixed the publication date.


	8. Something Mundane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A day in the time frame that Jazz waited for Geralt. Learning how to be useful, and honing her survival ability.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait. I couldn't really decide what to do with this chapter... on another note, I'll be heading back to Uni in about two weeks... (*weak yay)
> 
> (*edited 8/18/2017)

“GAAAAAAVVVVVV!”

 

Jazz flinched from her position in the kitchen, stirring the pot over the fire in slowly even strokes with the wooden spoon as her hazel eyes drifted skyward. It had been Todd that had screamed in outrage, followed by the loud stomps of heavy, angry feet against the hardwood. There were sounds of scrambling feet, light, but trying their best to run away, before a heavy thud shook the house. And the young woman sighed, knowing what came next.

 

“OOOOOAAAAHHHHWWWW!!! TOOOODDDD!!! STOOOOP!” Gav screamed bloody murder as his friend, no doubt tackled him to the floor in anger before pounding on his arms.

 

“YOU BROKE THE TORCH!”

 

“AAOOOOOOWWWWHHHHHEEE I’M SORRRYYY I DIDN’T MEAN TO!!!”

 

More thumps and thuds, as Jazz heaved a heavy sigh, not alarmed by the violence occurring upstairs.

 

When Jazz had agreed to wait for Geralt to return to Crow’s Perch, the Baron had used his power to give her a home to share with Todd and Gav, who had taken it upon themselves to help Jazz in her endeavors and projects. And still, Jazz had to deal with the uproar that the two made nearly every morning.

 

So far, she had been living at Crow’s Perch for a month, with each day almost like the last in a sort of bizarre take of mundane life. In that time frame, Jazz had taken to studying everything she didn’t know about the world of the Witcher, because despite her selective eidetic memory, she didn’t know a great deal. For one, Jazz could speak the main language of the Continent, though she found this strange, but she couldn’t read the alphabet used. The written language didn’t look like any alphabet she’d ever come across while on Earth, so she was forced to have Todd read out several passages of text to her as she wrote the words down in English, before going back to match the letters up. Luckily, the sentence structure was the same as the English language, or Jazz’s plan wouldn’t work at all. Even though Jazz set about this task a month ago, she could barely make it through a few pages without having to stop every now and then to translate the strange symbols. With more practice, however, Jazz hoped to be able to read the strange symbols without much hindrance.

 

The reason for the desire to learn how to read stemmed from Jazz’s desire to learn how to communicate better with the people on the Continent. After all, she didn’t want to worry about not being able to read a book, or signs, or a map, or send a letter… in her words, “A crap ton of practical applications.”

 

In fact, knowing how to read had already assisted greatly in developing her skills as an herbalist. Jazz’s mind knew what to put into oils and potions, but with no visual record of what certain ingredients looked like, she had taken to reading the journals of past herbalists. Jazz found the translation process tedious, but admitted that making the oils were fun. _Like cooking, but potentially deadly._

 

Then came the knocking on the back door. _Knock knock… knockknockknock. KNOCK KNOCK… KNOCK._ The knocks were in the pattern that meant that the person at the back door was someone to be trusted. Setting the wooden spoon down, Jazz made her way towards the back door and responded with her own code of knocks. _Knockknockknockknock… knockknock… KNOCKKNOCK… knock._

 

“Amarante?” a timid voice came through the door, sounding like a child. “Mama told me to tell you that the Baron requires Manticore Oil for his Silver Blade.”

 

Quickly, Jazz swung the door open and directed the small boy a gentle smile before handing him a small brown package full of cookies and pat his head affectionately. “Thank you, Seb. Tell your mother that I received the message and don’t eat all the cookies in one day.” With a nod, the young woman sent the little boy on his way and silently shut the back door before giving her bottom lip a harsh bite. “Why did they have to come here today?”

 

After ensuring that the fire wouldn’t set anything alight, the amateur brewess made her way up the steps to her study on the second floor, where the windows overlook the mot and gates. Ignoring the clamor in the other room, Jazz stepped into her study, where various books and ingredients lined the shelves and various papers littered the desk in the far corner. On the opposite end of the room, which remained hidden should prying eyes glance into the room, was a distillery for oils.

 

There was a reason she hid after hearing from that young boy. After establishing herself and her services as a brewess under the employment and support of the Baron, Jazz knew that the Church of the Eternal Fire might seek her out. Whether the reason be to pay for her services, or to hunt her down for her part in killing three of its members, Jazz wanted no part in what the fanatics had to offer. As a result, Jazz established a system where someone would be sent to knock on her door in a rhythm if anyone involved with the Church entered the gates of Crow’s Perch.

 

In the case of such an occurrence, Jazz would lock herself away in her office to continue brewing witcher oils and occasionally dabbling in witcher potions.

 

Normally, Jazz would have no problem locking herself in a room to do whatever she pleased. But Jazz was suffering from something that all women were likely to understand.

 

**She was on her period.**

 

Yes, the mood swings and blood gushing (well, not gushing) from her vagina, accompanied by the muscle pains that plague her abdominal area. Something that not even trans-dimensional travel could rid her of. And now, to be stuck in her own home, Jazz was highly irritated. And as much as the young woman wanted to lay in her bed all day to sulk on the lack of painkillers the world had, Jazz had much work to do. Though briefly, Jazz had to think on whether sorceresses were ever recorded to still have their menstrual cycle.

 

Since dabbling in brewing and alchemy, Jazz found that she could feel certain energies within her. It wasn’t an uncomfortable energy or sensation. Nothing that sent chills and shivers surging through her body, but more like a warm throbbing, like no amount of cold would ever affect her ever again. In fact, Jazz had never felt the feeling before. And the more she tried to focus on it, the more the warmth grew as if being channeled. After speaking to a herbalist, Jazz found that what she was feeling might be magic, though said herbalist seemed absolutely baffled that someone untrained in magic could channel it.

 

Then, Jazz’s mind flashed to the searing pain that the leshen had inflicted upon her.

 

_Could the leshen have given her magic?_

 

But as quickly as the idea surfaced, was it dismissed with a shake of the head. _No. There was no record of such an occurrence ever._ **But that didn’t mean that it couldn’t happen.**

 

Regardless of the source of her magic, Jazz started to experiment with it. Far from the eyes of those discriminating against magic users, Jazz practiced in her home’s basement, trying to channel the warmth whilst making the witcher handsigns. It seemed ridiculous, staying up in the late hours of the night to make hand gestures into the air. Especially hand gestures that required the odd bending of several fingers…

 

And after a month of night training, Jazz was only able to figure out how to use a decent Quen despite the cramps it gave her hand, and a weak a all hell Aard, which could maybe break a plate… by knocking it off a high place.

 

Yrden lasted maybe a second before it faded away, and Axii might work on a rat… But for the life of her, Jazz was unable to use Igni. In fact, her magic seemed to recoil and recede when she tried to use the fire attack.

 

Perhaps though, Jazz wondered, as she sat down to write in her journals, the use of Igni would come with practice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, Please Read and Comment when possible! :D I love the feedback! <3


	9. Awaken the Monster Within

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Good things don't last. In this world, the naive... the innocent... those without wickedness... they are beat down.
> 
> WARNING: If sexual violence or any sort makes you uncomfortable, please skip this chapter. This chapter is seriously not for those that get triggered easily, or for those that can't handle graphic descriptions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If sexual violence or any sort makes you uncomfortable, please skip this chapter.
> 
>  
> 
> This chapter is... very dark. Granted, there is some bonding between characters going on. But it's a dive into the past of some of the characters. Sharing similar experiences and bonding over it. At the same time, this is a chapter about loss. The loss of innocence. The loss of hope. The loss of sanity. The loss of control.

Two weeks later…

8 Feainn, Year 1272

 

“This is not the room you’re looking for.”

 

Todd, with his resting bitch face, could only stare at Jazz in amusement as she concentrated on his face and made strange gestures with her left hand. There had been a flash of bright forest green in her normally dark brown eyes, but other than that, Todd did not react to Jazz’s attempt at using Axii on him. With a deep chuckle, Todd merely ruffled the much shorter woman’s hair before walking past into the kitchen, long since grown accustomed to her practicing the one witcher sign on him and Gav. “You’ll get it eventually, Jazz.”

 

**In the beginning, I was only looking to be something.**

 

Jazz only reached up with her right hand to tame the ruffled hair atop her head, staring at her left hand in thought, “Maybe I’m using the wrong hand signs…” she mumbled lowly, slowly shuffling her boot clad feet towards the dining table where breakfast had been set up.  _ Would make sense. The games couldn’t be all that accurate with the signs. Most of it was made up for the game only. The books never described the signs. _ As she sat down, Jazz’s gaze sought out her hand again and narrowed in alarm.  _ Has it all been just luck? Do the signs even work, or am I just performing wordless magic? Can magic even be performed without words? I mean, I’ve only read and seen verbal magic… Caranthir was using verbal magic, too… right? Oh god… I can’t remember. Do only complicated spells require words? Or is it all verbal? Oh GOD. COULD I HAVE KILLED SOMEONE BY ACCIDENT? _

 

The young woman’s musings and worries were suddenly halted when a not so gentle throw of a wooden spoon made impact with the side of Jazz’s head, knocking her head and her thoughts askew with a  _ tonk _ .

 

Blinking once, twice, three times, Jazz allowed her jaw to drop open as she slowly righted her head. She turned to Todd, assuming that he was the one that clonked her in the head with the spoon, but seeing his shake of the head and the wooden spoon in his own hand, still full of food, Jazz whipped her head to the right, where Gav was still stuck in the position he’d thrown the spoon from. Despite the laid back manner in which he’d thrown his left arm over the back of the wooden chair, Gav held a stern expression upon his normally happy-go-lucky face. Jazz had no words. Gav, for the first time since they’d met, was making a serious expression.  _ The world is ending. _

 

“You had that horrified look again, Jazz. Stop it.” Gav’s blue eyes met Jazz’s and didn’t stray for even a second. The grin that so often adorned his young face was gone, but Jazz could see the worry in his darkened blue eyes. For a moment, Jazz had no idea of what Gav had meant by ‘horrified look.’ But then, she thought back to a week prior when she heard of some news regarding Geralt.

 

Jazz had been called to speak with the Baron regarding the supply of Necrophage Oil that she’d prepared for the Baron’s men. Talks of storage and other varieties of oils eventually led to news about the White Wolf. The Baron, for his part, didn’t seem all that ticked off that Geralt was taking his time returning to Crow’s Perch, merely lounging back on his desk chair as he gave the young lady the news.

 

“Word has spread that Geralt has been a little bit of everywhere as of late.” The Baron started, analyzing Jazz’s face for any reaction.

 

Thus far, Jazz didn’t seem all that surprised, given the nature of Geralt’s work and quest, it would be natural for him to be seen in Novigrad, Oxenfurt, and Skellige. “I expected as much. His job would require him to be everywhere for a little while in the Northern Realms.”

 

“He was reported to have made plans to travel towards Toussaint.” The Baron clarified, and to his amusement, the girl, for she would always be a girl to him with her childish looks, who had been sitting in her chair haphazardly reclined, tipped her chair too far and fell with a horrified expression.

 

The rest of that day, Jazz had stalked through Crow’s Perch with a horrified expression, pale, wide-eyed, and looking like she might have a panic attack at any moment. Her entire thought process consisted of:  _ BY THE GODS, I KNEW GERALT’S TRAVEL HABITS WERE BAD AND INCONSISTENT, BUT IF I STAY HERE AND WAIT…. HOW LONG WILL HE BE IN TOUSSAINT? OH GOD. REGIS… DETTLAFF… OH NO…. DETTLAFF!!! DLC!! AND OLGIERD!!! O’DIMM!!! BY WILLIS, I HAVEN’T GOT O’DIMM ON ME, RIGHT??? FUCK MY LIFE! _

 

It was only through the miracle of absurdity that Jazz had snapped out of her terror-induced trance. Gav and Todd had been trying to best one another at Gwent for the last of the cookies that Jazz had baked, and their frustration at each other’s decks were amusing, what with Todd using a Skellige deck and Gav using a Scoia’tael one, there was nothing like the cries of frustration from calling more cards from the deck to outlast one another. The entire situation ended when Gav made eye contact with Jazz eerily and sudden a table flip from Todd that sent all cookies flying and being soiled from being on the floor. Jazz’s amusement at their misfortune had been enough to snap her out of her panic.

 

Now, with Gav and Todd staring her down, Jazz snapped her jaw back into place and nodded bashfully. “Right. Sorry.”

 

Her blatant dismissal and apology didn’t please Gav in the slightest, and the serious expression intensified as he clicked his tongue in annoyance. “You’re as bad as Todd. If something is bothering you, you should speak up.” When Jazz made no effort to expound on her thoughts, Gav frowned and reached forward to flick the older woman on the forehead, eliciting a startled yelp and a look of disbelief from the short female. “Jazz. Did you know that Todd and I came from an orphanage?”

 

“Gav.” Todd growled from across the table, green eyes glaring daggers at his friend and hand with a vice grip on the spoon. “Don’t you dare.”

 

“How the fucking hell is she supposed to open up to us about her problems if we don’t open up about ours?” Gav countered with a bit of bite to his words, blue eyes narrowing further at his friend. It was the first time that Jazz heard or saw Gav talk back to Todd. After all, the younger man was always putting up with Todd’s harsh words and strikes with a smile and cowardly apologies. It seemed as if there was more to Jazz’s companions than what met the eye.

 

A sudden slam of a fist on the table startled Jazz out of her reverie to turn her head to Todd, whose right hand was still on the table. His normally impassive face was morphed into outrage and discomfort. “Because it’s not your story to tell! And a woman doesn’t need to know the wickedness of this world!”

 

Gav rolled his eyes and shook his head at his friend’s idiocy. “It’s both our story to tell, and don’t insult Jazz by thinking you’re somehow protecting her from the world by not saying anything about your past. She lives in this wicked world with us, so she’ll learn one way or another!”

 

Todd’s chair skid backwards with a high pitched groan against the wooden floor as he rose to his feet abruptly. “Fine. But I won’t stick around to hear it.” And with a huff, the older man stormed out of the kitchen and out of the house.

 

At the slam of a door, Gav let out a heavy sigh and rose from his seat as well, extending a hand towards his leftover companion. “Let’s speak somewhere private. This is something that requires mutual comfort to talk about.”

 

Taking Gav’s hand, Jazz allowed herself to be led up the stairs and into her bedroom, where she took a seat on the bed. If she were being honest, Jazz wasn’t completely trustful of the situation. She’d be a fool if she thought following a man into a bedroom was a good idea. From her past experience, one must exercise caution at all times. Especially when alone.

 

“Todd seemed really upset, Gav. Are you sure you want to include me?” Jazz knew that whatever it was that was bothering the two men wasn’t something to be regarded lightly. And if neither men were actually comfortable with her knowing, she wouldn’t pry.

 

For a long moment, Gav was silent, the happy-go-lucky persona of his completely gone for the moment. He’d remained standing when Jazz had taken a seat, not due to discomfort, but indecision, as if he might have second thoughts about the entire situation. There was a subtle tension in his shoulders and his blue eyes were shifting back and forth.

 

Two minutes became four before Gav decided to speak, eyes meeting Jazz’s brown again. “You’ve noticed that Todd doesn’t really interact with that many people, right?”

 

A nod from Jazz showing that she knew what he was referring to. “Yeah. In particular, a sort of aversion towards adults.”

 

**But then, some asshole broke me in.**

 

Gav sighed and took a seat on the bed a good distance away from where Jazz sat. “We were orphaned at the same place. CrownPoint. We left maybe four years ago after burning the damned place to ashes, but our time there, for Todd in particular, was hell.” Gav gave a broken laugh as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I lost my mum and pa to a werewolf attack when I was naught but seven. Got shipped off to Crown Point almost immediately. It wasn’t bad for me, living there. I had a roof over my head and food for my belly. Sure they’d made us work in the kitchens and such, but it wasn’t as bad as what they did to the ‘better looking’ children. Todd was one of them.” The taller male reached forward to take Jazz’s hands, rubbing circles on her knuckles to calm himself, “Todd was the bastard child of two nobles, and received a formal education unlike yours truly. He… his father caught wind about his existence, and had his mother killed, assassinated. Todd was taken to Craken Point, where his father was one of the proprietors. He’d been deemed an attractive child the minute he stepped through the doors of that prison.” 

 

Jazz could only remain silent when Gav’s face morphed into a sneer. “Various nobles funded the orphanage, and they made several visits throughout the weeks. Though their interests laid in the attractive children.” Gav shook his head solemnly, sadly, “I was too young to know what was really going on, and poor Todd didn’t know until it was too late.” Jazz stiffened, knowing what was next, knowing how sick the people in this world were. How rotten adults with power were. “Todd admitted to enjoying the special treatment at first. The good food, the nice clothes, better sleeping accommodations… but nothing good ever lasts. Within months the special treatment turned into suggestive comments, and the suggestive comments turned into light touches. But when you’re a child, you don’t really know what the reality of your situation is.” Jazz nodded in empathy, for she could sympathize and empathize how people could take advantage of a child’s naivety. After all, she’d experienced it as well a dozen years prior. 

 

“One day, Todd’s father accompanied the visiting nobles. The nobles, men and women alike, a group of eight adults, paid his father in front of him. Not even a minute later, Todd was locked in a room with those eight adults. And Todd told me that that light touches turned to caresses. His face, shoulders, then lower and lower still until they had him pinned down while they tore his clothes away. I remember the screams echoing through the halls, cries for help that all the children and adults heard. Yet nobody came to help him. They had their way with each other then had their way with him. And every adult in that wretched place knew what happened to him and every child there knows as well. Because come morning a group of the orphans are sent to fetch him. We find him alone and naked in that damned room. Bruised, marked, splattered with bodily fluids and near comatosed. But us orphans, we are unable to do anything but clean him, comfort him. To try and make all the bad go away. The adults do nothing no matter how much we complain. All that mattered was the coin in their pockets. After the events surround Todd, the same situations began to happen to other children in the orphanage, though, luckily I was a right ugly lad back in the day, so nobody touched me. But it wouldn’t be the last time that Todd would go through that. It would happen every week from then on.” A dark laugh and a cracked voice. “Heh. Took us seven years, but we finally got enough balls to make a plan to burn the damned place down. To leave that Hell and make a life for ourselves. Pathetic, right?”

 

By this point, Jazz’s shoulders were hunched and her eyes had gone bleary and unfocused. It wasn’t the horrified and disgusted look that Gav had expected and had come to recognize on the people that were told about their past. No, the expression that Jazz wore was a haunted one. Not even a second later, Jazz spoke up, her voice low and unsteady. “My experience wasn’t as bad as yours or Todd’s, but… I can understand how people can take advantage of children. I have… several siblings. One of them, was an older brother, nearly seven years older than me. I was ten at the time. He’d managed to coerce me into a game.” Jazz’s brown eyes met Gav’s blue, “You understand where this is going right?” 

 

**It only took a short time to wreck all of my innocence.**

 

Gav couldn’t bring himself to tear his gaze away from the slightly older woman. He didn’t expect for Jazz to have endured a similar trauma. With the way she carried herself, the Northerner figured that Jazz hadn’t faced much hardship in her life. “It was… a sick and twisted game. Something that no sibling should ever do to his little sister. And yet he did.” There was a sneer on her young face, a scrunch of her nose in disgust at events that might still haunt her. “He knew that I was young and impressionable. That I loved playing cards. It had been a game similar to Gwent, where you would build your own deck to play. And I had no money to purchase my own cards, so he made a deal. That we’d play his little game in exchange for a single card. A game where he blindfolded me in a closet and had me suck on something.” Brown eyes darkened with hate. “I didn’t suspect anything until he wanted to put whatever it was into my vagina.” Jazz smiled sadistically, “I told my mother that night after refusing to give him what he wanted. Within the next week mother and father had sent him away. It was only eight years later that I was able to figure out what I’d been doing in that closet. It only took me eight years to figure out how sick my brother was.” The tension left Jazz’s shoulders as she continued to speak, eyes going far away. “My immediate family knew what had happened, especially once they started questioning my mother about the sudden changes in the family. My sudden visits to a… doctor of the mind… a therapist, we call them. But you know what?” Jazz laughed in disbelief, slightly unhinged, “They thought my mother the villain!”

 

Gav’s jaw popped open in disbelief, completely baffled by the statement, “What?”

 

“I know!” Jazz’s laughing cracked slightly, “They didn’t think that I was the victim. They thought my mother cruel for making my older brother leave. The man who violated my mouth. Who used my innocence for his own pleasure, was the ‘poor soul’ the innocent that had suffered in this story! And they pressured me into forgiving him. ‘Oh, Jazz, hasn’t he suffered enough?’ ‘Why can’t you all be a family again?’ and bullshit such as that. Until I made a grand display of publicly forgiving him. But you know what?” Jazz’s voice cracked as she let out a sob, her brown eyes tearing up from the sudden release of bundled up emotion. “I still hate him. I hate what he did to me. I hate that he’s the one who gets the sympathy. I hate that everyone makes excuses for him when he was old enough to know between what is right and wrong.”

 

“That’s not what was bothering you.” Gav stated, having caught on to Jazz’s diversion, though he still felt bad.

 

“Heh.” Jazz sniffed and laughed weakly, “yeah… it’s not, but it was nice to have someone listen for once.”

 

“It is.” Gav agreed solemnly, drawing Jazz into a hug, resting his cheek on top of her head. “People like us… all we really want is someone who really listens and understands.”

 

“I’m sorry that I made this about me.” Jazz apologized, her voice scratchy and muffled against Gav’s tunic. “I’m sorry that you had to go through all that. I’m sorry that Todd had to suffer like that.”

 

“I’ve long since accepted what happened, but I’ve been trying to get Todd to move on a little. To feel more comfortable in his skin.” Gav chuckled a little, “It’s why he gets so mad at me when I try to act the optimistic fool.”

 

“He’s lucky that he has you, Gav.” Jazz whispered softly. “I tried so hard to get people to listen and help me. But nobody really could. They would say they understood what I was going through, but they don’t really. Not unless it happens to them.”

 

“Well, you have ‘Ol Gavvy to talk to now.” Gav smiled warmly at the young woman in his arms. “As long as you help me get Todd to open up. Aye?”

 

Jazz hugged the man harder. “Okay.”

 

[One day later]

9 Feainn, Year 1272

 

A day later, Todd was still in a foul mood, though Jazz had discovered a newfound comfort in Gav. It wasn’t as if Todd didn’t know that Jazz knew about his situation, but rather that he didn’t like people judging him for what happened in his past. Though now that Jazz knew what had happened years ago, she was able to put reason towards Todd’s actions. Tensing at the slightest involuntary touch. Never exposing skin. Barely going out to the taverns or pleasure houses when that would be what the normal young man would be doing. And upon realizing the reason for these strange behaviors, Jazz started to back off a little with her affections. But the more that Jazz backed off, the more that Todd seemed agitated.

 

When Jazz quickly retracted her hand from Todd’s for the eighth time that day, Todd growled in agitation and latched onto Jazz’s retreating wrist, holding fast. “What? Are you disgusted with me now? Am I repulsive? Is that why you pull away!”

 

Despite the anger, however, Jazz noticed that Todd’s grip never tightened, never sought to harm her despite having an advantage over her dainty body. And it was for this reason that Jazz didn’t overreact. Instead, the younger woman stopped her retreat and brought her eyes up to Todd’s wild gaze, which were wide with narrowed pupils. She recognized the look. Self-loathing. Rejection. Exhaustion. Sadness. Loneliness. So much loneliness that all that remained seemed to be a gaping pit. And instead of her normal reaction of yelling back, Jazz threw her arms around Todd’s waist and cried. “I’m here. You’re beautiful.”

 

The older man began to shake wildly in panic, tremors shaking his body as he twisted to make Jazz release her embrace. “W-what are you playing at! L-let go of me!”

 

“If you throw me off, I won’t complain. I won’t resist.” Jazz whimpered sadly, loosening her grip around him. “If you want me to leave, I’ll leave. But I want you to know that you’re beautiful. You’re not disgusting or repulsive.”

 

All Todd could do was heave a heavy and tired sigh before letting the younger woman do as she wanted, calming down enough to pat the girl on the head. “What are you doing, Jazz? You’re not supposed to be crying.”

 

Jazz pulled her head away from his chest to look him in the face with a pathetic expression, tears stained her cheeks and snot had started to run. “It won’t stop!”

 

With a shake of his head, Todd led Jazz towards the washroom, where he took a damp cloth and began cleaning the shorter girl’s face. “You’re a mess.”

 

“I’m your mess though.” Jazz muttered unconsciously, reverting back to normal 21st century behavior.

 

A rough scrub from the towel blocked her view of Todd as he muttered back, “Shut up….”

 

Suddenly, the slam of the front door alerted both Jazz and Todd of Gav’s arrival home. “Oi! Jazz, we ‘ave a contract from ah man u’h north!”

 

“What kind of contract?” Jazz called back as Todd continued to clean her face, curious.

 

“An investigation! Ah ‘ole town disappeared, ‘an they only foun’ tracks!” Gav informed, rushing down the hall and into the washroom with a scroll of paper.

 

“We don’t do hunts, Gav.” Todd scolded after snatching the paper out of his friend’s hands and reading it.

 

“They don’ want us ta ‘unt! Just look at the tracks ta see if it be a beast!”

 

“I’m not a witcher, Gav. I’ll not risk anyone’s life by pretending that I am.” Jazz firmly refused, knowing the dangers of trying to do something you aren’t trained for.

 

“Bu’ ‘ah thought you wanted teh get bet’er at it!”

 

“And what happens if we come across a monster, huh? None of us can handle anything more than a ghoul or two! And by the sounds of it, this is something more dangerous than a simple ghoul!” Jazz snatched the paper from Todd and waved it in front of Gav’s face, “An entire village went missing, Gav! This is beyond me!”  _ I don’t want to lose you two.  _

 

Gav, startled at Jazz’s refusal, winced and cast his gaze to the floor. The tallest of the three clenched his hands as his brows scrunched up in focus, “I know that we’re still not strong. I know that that you can barely use your Witcher signs, much less fight anyone with the amount of practice you got in. But the White Wolf is too busy to come back to Velen yet, and…” Gav took a deep breath before bring his gaze to Jazz’s his blue eyes burning with determination. “I won’t stand by and watch as a whole town of innocents goes missing! Even if you won’t go… You’ve taught me enough… If you won’t go… then I’ll go by myself.”

 

With that firm declaration and the fire burning in his eyes, Gav set his mouth in a firm line and spun in place, briskly walking out of the home he shared with his friends. Sputtering in complete bafflement, Jazz’s eyes went wide, trying to form words to stop her friend from going. But when nothing coherent left her mouth, Jazz grit her teeth and tried to calm her terrified breathing before sprinting toward her office and throwing on her lightweight armor, the Witcher medallion jingling against the chainmail as she strapped her newly crafted silver sword to her side. Biting her lips, Jazz grabbed a satchel and threw in her experiments, hoping that she wouldn’t need them.

 

By the time she was ready, Todd was waiting for her at the front of the house, fully armored with the horses ready to follow after Gav. Nodding towards each other, the two companions left Crow’s Perch to ensure that their friend didn’t get himself killed.

 

**i wAs OnLy LOokIng to Be s0meTHinG.**

 

A half day’s journey later, Jazz, Gav, and Todd had arrived at the abandoned village. Sure enough, the place was deathly quiet, looking like the place had been abandoned for months. There was no indication that anyone had lived there for weeks, months even. There weren’t any farm animals, or carcasses to show that anybody had been there recently. If the villagers had gone missing through some sort of nefarious means, the animals would at least still be dying or rotting. But there were no signs of animals anywhere. Seeing this, all three party members were immediately put on edge.

 

“T’was da place ‘ey says it be.” Gav whispered, clearly distressed with the absolute silence in the abandoned site.

 

Todd didn’t show it, but Jazz could see the tremor in his hands as he gripped the horse reigns in his right hand and the pommel of his blade in the left. Even the conflict-ready Todd was unnerved by the silence. The emptiness that greeted them.

 

**I remember thinking about it while it happened.**

 

Taking a deep gulp, Gav dismounted the horse and strolled through the village path cautiously. Behind him, Jazz and Todd followed, swords at the ready and eyes analyzing the environment. They reached the center of the village and took a gander in all directions, their backs toward each other with each person facing a different direction. Jazz took one look at their surroundings before deciding that no monster had visited the village. At least, no supernatural monster. Even Todd and Gav were able to tell. That all around them, were human footprints.

 

“G-gav?” Jazz whimpered in fear, she was equipped to handle monsters, but not humans. And judging from the heavy indents in the mud, heavily armored humans. “W-who was the person that gave you the job?”

 

Gav squinted in concentration, trying to come up with the best way to describe their client. “T’was a stout fellow, normal civi if I’m honest about the way ‘e dressed. No armor. No sword. ‘Said that ‘e and a group of friends had recently returned to Oxenfurt from their trip down south, and were going back down to White Orchard when ‘ey stumbled upon this ‘ere abandoned village. Caught wind of ah witcheress in Crow’s Perch and wanted us to check the village.”

 

With the explanation, Jazz froze in fear and immediately started back towards the horses. “We need to go. Now.”

 

“Wait!” Todd shouted, brows scrunched in confusion at the woman’s hasty retreat. “What’s wrong?”

 

**I remember thinking, “I don’t like this. I don’t want to be here.”**

 

“I don’t like this.” Jazz whimpered as her answer, single mindedly making her way back to the horses as the two men followed. “I don’t want to be here.”

 

It was only a few meters away from the horses that they heard the sound of metal clanging. Jazz, Gav, and Todd only sped their pace up to a sprint. They needed to leave immediately. The sound of a spring release met the trio’s ears and they were soon met with the site of Todd’s horse falling towards the ground, dead before hitting the mud. The trio ducked as the sound of several other springs were released. Down went the other two horses, three arrows embedded in each of them.

 

All three members rose from the mud in time to retrieve their weapons as a dozen or so individuals armed to the teeth exited the various huts in the village. The trio, upon looking at the fancy plating and crested armor, immediately recognized the individuals as members of the Church of the Eternal Fire. All of them were glaring at Jazz maliciously, ready to cut down anyone to get to her.

 

The village was secluded. There were no main roads running through or near it, Jazz realized too late. If any of them screamed for help, nobody would hear.

 

As the witch hunters advanced as a group, sidestepping to flank the trio, Jazz steeled herself for her first real fight, gripping her silver rapier firmly. The first person to attack was a member of the Church, raising their right arm and running forward to bring it down with a high pitched scream, silver blade colliding with Jazz’s own silver as she raise her blade to parry, but found that she barely had enough strength to counter the attack full of brute strength. Jazz grunted from the impact, she was small, much smaller than the women of the Northern Realms, and therefore didn’t have as much physical strength. But what Jazz lacked in strength, she made up with speed and flexibility. Twisting herself to let her attacker’s blade slide harmlessly towards the thick mud, Jazz quickly sidestepped her opponent, the edge of her sword making an incision in the enemy’s hip, at the area uncovered by the silver chainmail. The attacker let out a shriek of outrage before swinging her sword blindly and in a diagonal cut upwards, knicking Jazz in the left bicep as the smaller woman went to dodge.

 

Jazz managed to dodge the attack in time, only to have to scramble to deflect another strike when two other Church members joined in on attacking her. 

 

With each strike, she struggled to dodge. To deflect. To block.

 

Behind her, Todd and Gav also struggled, having to take on three witch hunters each. Around them, several archers held crossbows at the trio, ready to fire should any of the witch hunters get overwhelmed.

 

**tRaPpeD**

 

Jazz grunted from the impact of silver on her blade, barely having time to cast Quen as the other two Church members attempted to deal damage to her sides. When their swings made contact with the protective magic, they were thrown backwards into their fellows fighting Gav and Todd.

 

“Damn it! I told you dumb lot that we needed to capture them!” one of the archers screamed in outrage. “Gotta torture ‘em for what they did! The witcheress for stealing from and killing our men. And the two lugs for hiding her from us!”

 

Distracted, Jazz didn’t see the back of a blade making its way towards her head until it was too late. She fell to her knees, disorientated from the ringing in her head. High pitched. Nauseating. The witch hunters wasted no time in subduing her. Tying her hands and feet together, like a hog freshly hunted, the witcher hunters let her fall into the mud with a sickening squelch.

 

Todd and Gav, seeing their friend fall, fought harder, taking down three witch hunters before being subdued themselves. A simple clash from all sides, and the two Velen soldiers fell to the floor, Todd unconscious and Gav struggling to retain consciousness. It was seeing her friends fall that prompted Jazz to try and scream, knowing that she had an impressive pair of lungs. Still, try as she might, her screams, which echoed through the fields and startled various forest creatures, weren’t enough to alert any human.

 

“Fucking hell! Shut the cunt up!”

 

And struggle as she might, Jazz couldn’t stop the gag from being forced into her mouth, wanting to vomit from being forced to put something in her mouth.

 

“So what are we going to do with them?” the sound of another woman witch hunter from the pitch.

 

“Whatever we want.” came the answer.

 

“In that case… I want the witcheress.” One of the larger members declared kneeling down in from of Jazz to give her a lecherous sneer. Jazz’s breathing hitched in fright as the portly man unsheathed a knife and traced the tip of the blade from her neck down to her breasts then towards her hips. The man grinned maliciously, his breath smelling of rot, “You look young. Not yet deflowered are ya. Hmmm.” The knife went lower as he brought his face towards Jazz’s neck to breath deeply. “M’ name is Bolek.” His breath hit Jazz’s exposed skin, sending a shiver down her body. “‘An I want to hear you screaming my name as I fuck your tight cunt.”

 

“GET AWAY FROM HER YOU FAT FUCK!” Gav snarled in outrage, the optimistic attitude gone as he twisted in his bindings. “TOUCH HER AND YOU’LL BE SORRY!”

 

Jazz was mortified and terrified. Her eyes shifting to looking at her furious companion, face pleading silently for him to be quiet.  _ Stop, Gav. Please.  _ She begged in her mind,  _ Don’t give them a reason to kill you first. _

 

Bolek sneered and rose from his position over Jazz’s immobile form, stalking towards Gav’s glaring body with an arrogant swagger. “Look everyone!” The fat fucker spread his arms wide and addressed his companions, who started to ignore Jazz and Todd in favor of surrounding Gav. Bolek withdrew his knife and swiftly crouched to stick the knife just under Gav’s chin, shutting the taller Velen soldier up. “He’s got a big mouth.” Bolek licked his lips, his eyes gleaming as he ran his muddy eyes up and down Gav’s body. “Tall lad, well built…. Not bad on the eyes… I wonder how you’d feel….” Quickly standing, Bolek let out a bellowing laugh as he asked his fellows, “What do you think? Ladies? Lads? The soldier hid the witch from us. From justice.” Boos and jeers. “Slew five of our band of twelve!” Someone sent a kick into Gav’s ribs as others booed and laughed, mocking. “We shall show them the justice of the Eternal Fire!”

 

“The first for justice! THE FIRST FOR JUSTICE!” the group of seven, two women and five men chanted together.

 

Satisfied, Bolek nodded and flicked his wrist at Gav’s immobile form. “Strip him.”

 

Jazz and Gav came to the same conclusion at the same time when the group of men and women dragged him away from Todd’s unconscious body and towards a spot clearly visible by both Todd and Jazz, prying way the taller man’s armor as they went, laughing madly even as Gav struggled. The same thoughts ran through Gav and Jazz’s minds.  **_No. Not this. Anything but this. STOP. Won’t someone help us? No. NO. NONONONONO._ **

 

“No! LET GO OF ME! NONONONO! NO!” Gav cried out in fear as the clothes were forcefully cut from his body.

 

“Someone gag him!” One of the women complained, stripping herself of her armor.

 

Another man, already stripped to his smallclothes, grunted and hurriedly discard the last of his clothing before moving towards Gav’s face. “I’ve got something he can do with his mouth.” Gripping Gav by the jaw, the man forced himself into Gav’s mouth with a moan, glaring at Gav straight into the eyes, “And don’t even think about biting.”

 

All the while, Jazz was helpless to stop the madness that was happening in front of her. Gav’s eyes met her own, begging for her to look away. Pleading. And Jazz did. Turning her mud caked head to look at anything but the raping of her friend. And inside she begged for Todd to stay asleep the entire time. After escaping that hell, Todd didn’t need to see this all again. All she could do was cry silently and try to block out the sounds, hoping that they would simply kill her, but knowing that they would do the same to her, maybe worse.

 

“Oh nonono. You have to watch, little witch.” Bolek’s voice as he stalked towards her form, naked, disgusting. 

 

Jazz resisted as much as she could when the larger mand seized her by her long and dirtied raven locks, turning her head to look at what they were doing to Gav. Shaking her head, Jazz shut her eyes and whimpered through the cloth tied around her mouth.  _ I don’t want to be here. Please. Why can’t this all have been a nightmare? I don’t want this. I want to go home. I want my mom. I want my dad. I want my little brother and sister. Why? _

 

Bolek tsked in displeasure as he saw her brown eyes shut, before reaching to unclasp the plating of Jazz’s armor, enjoying the whines of fear. Before long, Bolek had Jazz in her small clothes, his swollen hands reaching down to drag a finger over the curve of her breasts, relishing in the protesting moan that left Jazz’s mouth. ‘Ughhhmmm.” Jazz could feel the moan rumble through the man as he grew hard against her bottom. “I wonder if you’re a whore as well as a witch.” Bolek wondered aloud, hands traveling down to reach under her underwear, touching a place that Jazz never allowed anyone near. Jazz started to sob, unable to hold in her tears as her attacker fingered her. “Gods, you’re so fucking wet. Oh… look… seems like my friends are done with your friend.” And against her will, Jazz found her eyes opening to look at Gav, only having enough time to see his ruined body and lifeless eyes before the Church members set him on fire.

 

The smell of burning flesh hit her hard, leaving her focused entirely on Gav’s burning body. Not even caring that she was the next to be raped and killed. Gav, whose smile got Todd and Jazz through the worst of days. Reduced to nothing.  _ I’m next… I’m next and then Todd… No. NONONONONONO!! _

 

Jazz’s shaking worsened, as she felt the rage build within her, her breathing going wild and shallow. She felt a burning inside of her diaphragm and started to panic.  _ I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die!  _ Jazz chanted singlemindedly, not caring as the burning spread from within her. 

 

The burning surged suddenly when various runes started to appear on her body, unseen in the dark by her would be rapists as they set their hands on her shaking and overheated body. Suddenly, Jazz felt anger, not an anger not her own. And all it took was her curiosity, tapping into that source of anger, to hear the ancient but familiar voice.

 

 ** _MINE._** **_DIE._**

 

The runes immediately flashed to life, emitting a familiar green glow. Startled, Jazz’s attackers, all seven, released her and backed away in fright. It only took this moment of hesitation for whatever possessed Jazz to strike. Brown eyes, now flashing green as Jazz gazed at Bolek in hatred, narrowed. And then screams of pain filled the air. The man standing to the right of Bolek was raised from the floor, a thick and barb-filled tree root impaled through his gut, pulling in all directions, disemboweling the man slowly. Rootes shot up from the ground to cut the rope binding Jazz before going after one of the women in the group. Rising to her feet, Jazz watched with unblinking and remorseless eyes as the root ripped the woman apart.

 

To her victims as the tree roots slowly tore each of the witch hunters to pieces, Jazz looked the very image of the devil with her rune decorated body and the still burning body of Gav in the background. Her unrelenting, unforgiving, and hate-filled gaze like a possessed doll as she tore the gag from her mouth and gave off a manic and joyous laugh.

 

It was Bolek who the last to be killed. Still naked. Still fat. Still disgusting. Having pissed himself from fright as each of his friends were mutilated around him. Jazz, having had her fill of laughter, but glad that Todd didn’t have to witness any of the night’s horrors, slowly stalked towards Bolek, waving her hands to have the tree roots take hold of the man who sought to violate her. Who touched her without permission. Suspending in the air by his wrists, Jazz sneered, “How ugly. How repulsive. Oh look, you even defecated yourself.” The fat man whimpered and pled, words near incomprehensible in his fear. “You know. I should have the roots do to you what your people did to Gav and I. But I have respect for the forest, for this power. So I won’t have the trees fuck you like the monster you are.” Jazz’s face, previously unhinged, calmed considerably as she smiled, “You’ll die slowly. First, we’ll gag you.” The roots covered Bolek mouth as he tried to scream. With her victim silenced, Jazz continued, “Your nails go next, one by one, as slowly as possible. Then your prick, slowly strangled until it turns blue and falls off. Then we’ll break both your femurs… and then we’ll leave you, gagged, spiked on a group of roots as they split your ribcage. You’ll die slowly. Painfully, with all your dignity stripped.”

 

The clouds covering the darkened sky parted at that moment, casting moonlight over Jazz’s body as she took a deep breath. “The night is young, and nobody is around for miles. I’ve seen your justice… and now you shall experience mine.” A vengeful grin, “Shall we begin, Bolek?”

 

**_Each of us has a monster buried deep inside. You’ve awakened mine. And now you pay the price._ **

 

10 Feainn, Year 1272

07:00

 

The very next morning, the people of Crow’s Perch bore witness to the sight of their young witcheress trudging solemnly through the gates, leading two white mares. The young woman, usually the pinnacle of cleanliness, was caked in mud and held a haunted expression. On one horse was Todd, still unconscious, but alive. On the other horse, to everyone’s horror, was a body wrapped in a white cloth and tied to the back of the steed, burnt flesh peeking out from the hasty wrap-work.

 

Two hours later, Todd woke up. Two hours later, all of Crow’s Perch heard a man cry out in anguish. That night, the Baron held a funeral. 

 

The bodies of Jazz’s victims were food for the necrophages the following night.

 

That night, the Church of the Eternal Fire gained another enemy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure when I'll post next. I'll be moving back to school at the end of the month... Whoopie. University work.


	10. Quest Start: The Bark of Another

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A chapter written in a different character's point of view... Geralt's!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Props to my younger brother for coming up with the double meaning chapter name!! :D

The witcher was tired. Much more so than he had been in a very long time. It hadn’t been his quest for Ciri that tired him, but all the quests in between. Of course, Geralt didn’t take every request offered to him, it would be an outrageously crushing burden, but only ones where there might be a creature that posed a serious threat to the people. Yes, it was the very lifestyle of a witcher that tired him so and wore at that slowly aging body of his with a steady knaw. For the past two months, the witcher had been led all over the Northern Realms, helping various individuals in order to gain more ground on his quest for his young ward. When he’d freed Dandelion two weeks ago, he’d overheard several guards of the Church mention of a group of their own massacred in an abandoned town in Velen. That the bodies had been torn up with roots.

 

To Geralt, who had been a witcher for most of his life, the condition of the bodies had spelt of a leshen in the area. And a leshen was a dangerous and violent creature which needed to be taken care of to avoid further deaths. So after concluding all his business, with the only thing left to do being to help the Baron with his wife and to pick up Uma, Geralt decided to investigate the area that the bodies were found.

 

When the witcher arrived on scene, he could smell the rotting bodies, all still impaled on the tree roots. For a moment, Geralt wondered why the bodies were never recovered by the Church, it seemed odd to let a group of bodies rot, though if it were a battlefield he’d be less concerned. There was a gurgled from the ground, and suddenly the witcher was surrounded by ghouls, a few alghouls, and a rotfiend. “Guarded and picked apart by you ugly lot, no wonder the Church didn’t want to touch the bodies.” Geralt mocked in conclusion, withdrawing his silver sword, ready to strike the beasts down.

 

With quick strokes, the witcher easily slew the ghouls, sending their corpses tumbling into the mud as their stronger counterparts attacked, spikes out and ready to defend. As the alghouls aimed to surround the witcher, working in tandem as a distraction for their rotfiend companions, who crept towards the distracted man ready to slash at his unguarded back. 

 

This plan was short lived, however, as the witcher quickly cast the sign of Axii on each of the alghouls, making quick work of them and the leftover rotfiends with several strokes of his silver sword.

 

Now without the distraction of the necrophages inhibiting his work, the witcher set about investigating the corpses. 

 

“Just like those witch hunters said. Torn apart with roots.” the witcher paused to glance at the state of dress of each body, frowning at the lack of clothing. “Didn’t say anything about them being naked though. Hmmm,” the witcher took sever steps closer to each body, “Something doesn’t seem right. Ribcages pried apart as they were impaled… the work of a powerful leshen, surely, but this one…” the White Wolf stood to stand in front of a particularly large man, strong-boned, but overfed to the point of mild obesity. The corpse seemed to have died with his eyes open, bulging even, as if in intense pain, much more so than the other victims. The witcher’s face set into an intrigued expression as he crouched down to observe the state of the body besides the torso. “Hm… both femurs were broken… genitals are gone…” Geralt glanced down briefly and found the missing appendage on the floor, blue-ish purple in color. “Probably blue from lack of blood… constricted then cut off… all his nails are gone, too…” the witcher stood and started to investigate the surrounding area, confused. “Strange. Not the typical work of a leshen, this was almost torture… need to see if I can find another lead.”

 

A small series of steps later, Geralt found himself crouching yet again to examine a charred spot on the ground. “Hm… Something was burning here… no remains, somebody must have moved it… can’t tell what happened before. Been too long.” His head snapped towards another direction when he noticed an indent in the mud, “Someone laid there.” the witcher stood once more when his sharp eyes caught sight of something buried under the mud. “Rope… probably used to tie someone up… cut loose by something woody, the roots maybe?” the witcher gave a great inhale before exhaling, catching the scent of something. “Been a while, but the scent’s still faint. Need to follow it.” and follow the scent trail, he did, right towards the corpse of the tortured man. And that was when Geralt realized that the cut ropes had been in the middle of the circle of corpses. “Hmmm. Whoever did this… was protected by a leshen, probably marked. They were bound by the hands and feet, their companions, too judging from the other two spots… The corpses were naked, probably raped the captives… and when it was the marked person’s turn, the leshen lashed out… Probably freed its ward and killed all the witch hunters… whoever was marked probably tortured that man as he died…” Geralt gave a deep smell again before calling for Roach. “Scent’s still there, need to follow whoever was marked.”

 

“Strange that a leshen didn’t summon crows or wolves to attack, too.” the witcher commented as a side thought, but he decided to deal with that mystery when he found the leshen’s mark.


End file.
